In Tenebris Est Lux
by severedsouls
Summary: Snape Mentor fic. Not quite canon until third year, not canon at all past that. Set in sixth year. Voldemort is dead, but Harry is still struggling as Ron turns against him and Harry has to begin the year alone. Luckily a few Slytherins can offer support, but only if Harry is wiling to accept it. Slash, drugs, alcohol, self harm, abusive!Dursleys.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello all. This is my first story and I hope you enjoy it. I do not own any of JK Rowling's characters, unfortunately. This story involves drinking, drugs, and self harm, as well as slash. I hope you enjoy._

1st week of July.

5:44. The boy snubbed out his cigarette, exhaling through his small window, and pushed his fingers through his hair. Two weeks into summer hols, and he was already longing to flee back to Hogwarts. _Just gotta keep my head down,_ he reminded himself.

Harry checked his alarm clock. 5:48. He still had twelve minutes before he had to get downstairs and cook breakfast for his aunt and uncle. Dudley would wake later, but he preferred making a protein shake for breakfast these days anyway. The large lad had also recently become ashamed of his family's treatment of Harry, and asked little of him. This benefitted Harry when he caught Dudders smoking weed with his buddies. They struck a deal: Harry would clean Dud's room every week and keep quiet about his habit if Dudley would give him an eighth. It also helped that Harry could buy alcohol for his cousin when it was needed after Fred and George helped him make an age appropriate ID.

So now, Harry packed up his little bowl and lit up, inhaling deeply. He had to monitor his consumption daily, but this was enough to get through interacting with Vernon this early. _If I'm quiet and efficient, I might get a glass of milk and some toast this morning._ He almost snorted to himself. Vernon hated feeding him. Always had.

Privet Drive was the same as always this summer. Just follow the rules and maybe he won't get hit too hard. Make no noise. Do all chores. Failure to comply resulted in anything between an angry lecture (where Vernon's face turned that particular shade of purple, perhaps puce) or a beating. Harry already got the belt last week for freeing Hedwig. Doing chores in the garden with sweat dripping into open wounds was most unpleasant. Harry tried to keep quiet now. He would slip, maybe drop a spoon, or roll his eyes, and would receive a sharp slap across the face, but as long as it wasn't the belt… _or kicking. That really fucking hurts._

Harry had stopped caring. He always had a day or two where he had to acclimate back to the Dursleys, before he fell back into the pattern. This year had deepened it though. He stopped moaning after being hit, stopped crying out in pain, just accepted what he deserved. He did know he deserved it after all. So he just smoked weed, drank when he could, and accepted it. After all, its not like he even had real friends anymore. Not after Ron turned his back on him after he caught Harry snogging that 7th year boy. So. Defeat it was.

Harry regretted that make out session. He had been a little drunk from firewhiskey snuck in by twins, plus had a few puffs of a joint, and let his inhibitions get away from him. Now Ron thought he was disgusting. _Not as disgusting as I think I am,_ Harry snorted bitterly, lighting the bowl again.

Hermione had sent him letters of support, but Harry did not want them. He knew what he was. _Fag, queer, poof._ The farther people stayed away from him, the better. After all, look at how many people died in the bloody war to try and help him. _They didn't even need to. My job was to die anyway._ Better to just keep to himself. He only had two more years of school left anyhow.

5:58. Harry inhaled once more, then retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his hands.

Time to start the day.

11:16. Harry slipped his trainers on and put on one of Dudley's old jackets. He stuffed his weed and bowl into an old mint tin, and grabbed the pounds he had transferred from galleons last year, and slipped all of this plus his pack of cigs into his pockets. He quickly pulled up the window and climbed out onto the ladder he had placed there.

The past week was spent touching up the paint on the sides of the house (as well as many other chores), so Harry just happened to place the ladder right by his window every night. No one ever noticed because he was forced to work until after Vernon came home.

He scurried down the ladder and jumped the last few rungs, landing softly on the perfectly manicured lawn. He started down the familiar path to the closest convenience store to pick up a few beers and more cigarettes. It was secure in this quiet suburbia, and most of the well-respected citizens were asleep by now, not peering out their windows as they did in the daylight. Cops rarely patrolled these streets due to the lack of crime and white-washed charm.

As Harry shuffled down the streets, a few blocks from the Dursleys', he heard something new. Something loud. Loud rock music? Curiosity getting the best of him, Harry turned down a new street, following the music and lights until he reached a very large home with all the windows and doors open. There were kids, about his age, maybe older, all milling around the front yard. He could see even more inside, dancing to the music.

Unsure of what to do, Harry loitered for a moment, lighting another smoke, feeling out of place and lonely.

"Oi, mate!" A voice rang out from someone close by and Harry's head shot up. "Yeah, you. Why aren't you joinin my party?" A slightly older guy was waving at him while yelling, and Harry felt compelled to walk towards him. The shadows cleared from the other guy's face and Harry could tell he was attractive, with kind brown eyes and an excited grin. "So, you party?"

Harry nodded, still confused.

"Right on. M'names Nick. I'm inviting you into my house to get loaded. But, first, what the fuck are your clothes?"

Harry looked down. His battered hand me downs were swarming him as usual. A blush crept over his cheeks and he shrugged.

"Not to worry. I'm feeling generous. Follow me and I'll have you properly outfitted in no time."

Nick grabbed Harry's elbow and led him through the crowds and inside, where it was even more congested with bodies and smoke. Nick grinned over his shoulder at Harry and led him up a flight of stairs, through another door, and deposited him in an enormous bedroom. Nick turned to the walk in closet and left Harry staring bewildered around him. The room was painted black, and trimmed in gold. Even the bed covers were black, but pillowcases shimmered in gold. There were posters of muggle rock stars all over the walls, and a small sitting area with two wing-back chairs and a table made of a mirror.

"What's your name, mate?" Nick called out, throwing a shirt and jeans at Harry, "And what size shoe are you?"

"Um, Harry, Harry Potter," he said, happy as usual that no one knew him in the muggle world. "And a 9.5, I suppose."

"Ai'ight. Let me look around for some that size."

"Are you sure its okay I'm here? You don't even know me. I mean, I'm grateful, and I live just a few blocks away, but, um," Harry trailed off nervously.

"Yeah, o'course. The more the merrier. My parents are gone for the week, like usual, so I thought a rager was in order. Might as well abuse their power and money if they can't sit still for two days. Now, Harry, put on those clothes."

Harry, in spite of his nervousness, grinned at the animated boy. Nick was still rummaging in the closet, so Harry turned and shed his baggy clothes and put on what was handed to him. He was gifted a black, sleeveless tee with "Led Zeppelin" printed across the front, some skinny jeans with zippers at the pockets, and black and gold Vans. The pants were a bit big for him, but Nick threw a gold belt over his shoulder at him.

Harry glanced at the mirror. The shirt exposed the bruises left on his upper arm from Vernon tossing him in his room a few days ago, but Harry felt… confident, for this first time in ages. It felt good to be in clothes that fit, with someone who could maybe be a new friend, muggle or not.

Someone slammed the door open then, making Harry jump. It was a girl with wild bleached hair, facial piercings, and tattoos leading up her arms. She peered at him casually and shrugged.

"Nico, I brought you gifts," she said in a teasing voice.

"My Mav, darling, thank you!" Nick replied dramatically, coming out of the closet with a bong in his hand. "Meet our new best friend, Harry." Harry nodded at Mav, and grinned at him.

"You like marijuana, Harry?" She asked in that same teasing voice.

"Um, yes. I have a little bit if you'd like to share," Harry tentatively said, figuring it was the least he could do.

Nick and Mav started laughing as they walked around to the table; Mav sitting in a chair while Nick took the floor. Nick rummaged around in a drawer connected to the table, and pulled out a massive ziplock bag bursting with weed.

"How about we smoke all of yours, then fill your bag back up with this, ay mate?"

"Fuck yeah," Harry breathed, eyes wide. They laughed again and Nick patted the other chair. Harry tossed him his mint can and Nick immediately began packing the bong. Mav pulled a small bottle of tequila from the bag she had slung over her shoulder and took a long pull from it before offering it to Harry.

"You have to drink for at least 8 seconds or we'll throw you out," she teased. Harry grinned back, enjoying this challenge, and threw back the harsh liquor gladly, enjoying the painful warmth as it traveled through his body.

"Look at you, Potter, I knew you were a good one when I saw you," Nick laughed before taking a huge rip from the bong. "Now smoke this shit."

Harry had not smiled this much in weeks. Nick and him traded alcohol for weed, while Mav rummaged around her bag again.

"Nico, do you love me?"

"Of course," Nick smirked after licking his lips of liquor, "Please tell me you've got white and blue." Harry glanced up from the pull he was taking on the bong to see two very small baggies laid out. He took his hit, coughed a bit, and then peered curiously at the new additions.

"Mav. _Mav_. Where did you find all this love to share?" Nick exclaimed gleefully. Mav rolled her eyes.

"I found it in your bloody bathroom yesterday, you dolt." They both snickered together for a moment.

"Um, what is it?" Harry asked softly. He waited for them to make fun of him, maybe throw him out. Instead, the two got gleeful looks on their faces.

"You've never had powder? Sugar? White? Yayo? Cocaine?"

Harry shook his head no. Cocaine. Holy shit. That is definitely new. Harry had never seen any hard drugs around Hogwarts, muggle or otherwise.

"What are the blue pills?"

"That, my dear, is Adderall. It's a pharmo for kiddos with ADD and shite. It's also an upper. Coke is the best, but addy does the job too," Mav grinned.

"Line it up for us Mavvy. Give Harry some little lines to start. Don't want to break his heart yet," Nick laughed. Harry wasn't quite sure why Nick wanted this stuff since he was already so hyper. He nervously took another bong rip, coughing a tad after, and traded again with Nick. Tequila was feeling good, but Harry was getting interested in Mav making little lines with a student ID from the pile of white powder she had poured onto the table. There were two very slender ones, presumably for him. Nick pulled out his wallet and began rolling a £100 note tight.

Mav grabbed it from him in an easy familiarity and leaned over, seemingly vacuuming her thick lines right up into her nose. Once finished, she rubbed her finger over the table, gathering the lingering cocaine from her area, and rubbed it into her gums. _Shit. Can I do this?_

"You next Harry," Mav said, taking the bottle from his hand and placing the bill in replacement. Just do what I did. Close one nostril and snort it up."

Harry did as instructed, his nostrils tingling as the powder plowed through. It took him a minute to hold in a sneeze, then gathered the remaining with his finger, rubbing it into his gums just like Mav did. He handed the note to Nick, and waited for something to happen. He took a few more sips of tequila as Nick finished snorting, a wild grin on his face.

"Ready to rejoin the party?" He asked brightly.

"Let's have a few more rounds with the bong, then go down and get some mixed drinks," Mav replied, her voice a pitch higher and faster than before.

They repacked it, and passed it around the table along with the tequila. Harry started feeling…loose. Not the tense, aching feeling he had been carrying around for months now. He felt light and joyful with these new people. He even felt okay talking to them. Not that he said anything particularly important, but he had barely talked to anyone since summer break began.

"Alrighty, angels, lets go party with the masses, eh?" Nick asked, standing and stretching his long limbs. Mav stood as well, followed by Harry, who felt a bit lightheaded. After all, he'd only had a piece of toast today, followed by liquor and drugs. He fumbled with his cigarette pack and lit one up as he followed the other two back downstairs to the party.

1:48. They were taking a break from the crowd on Nick's back porch. They had danced, smoked, and drank their way through the past two hours. Harry was drinking a large glass of water and smoking another cigarette, while Mav was rolling a joint. Nick was spread out on the floor, staring at the sky, occasionally taking sips from a new bottle of tequila.

"So, Harry, where do you go to school?" Mav asked. She was definitely the most sober, though she had partied just as hard. Harry suspected she was older than him, but hadn't asked.

"Um, private boarding school in Scotland. Scholarship." _Shit, that sounded drunk. At least it wasn't the whole truth._

"Right on. When do you leave this shite town?"

"September first. Can't wait."

Nick suddenly stood, excited for some reason. "Guys! Harry needs to join our summer adventure plans!" Mav rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Nico says plans, but really its just what we always do. Party, skate, get tattoos, make a trip to London, travel to the country for a day and trip, also deal lots of drugs."

"C'mon Harry. Do it!"

"Sure, yeah, mate. I'm up for it. My relatives are arses, but I can usually get away at night anyway." Mav looked up.

"Relatives? Parents?"

Harry blushed for some reason. Most people knew his parents were dead, so he rarely had to say anything. "Yeah, Aunt and Uncle. The Dursleys. Number 4, Privet Drive. Parents died when I was a baby."

"Shite, sorry about that. Well, anyway, we should get a tattoo soon. Be thinking what you want Harry. Make it simple bc I'm probably gonna do it."

Harry nodded at Mav, pulling on his cigarette, thinking of all the tattoos he could get. He had enough people he cared about that were dead to get names all over. But, maybe something simple for the first one. Harry checked his watch, realizing he had four hours before he should start breakfast.

"Nick, is it okay if I shower here before I head back? I have to be up to make breakfast for my uncle at six." _Shit, Harry. Why'd you say that? That's weird. Other people aren't slaves for their relatives._

Nick looked at him curiously, but said sure. His eyes, however, trailed to the handprint on his arm. Harry ignored it. The less said, the better.

Mav passed Harry the joint, and he gratefully inhaled, calming his sense of fear about getting back to the Dursley's on time.

The swarms of people had lessened by the time they went back inside, and many that remained were asleep on sofas and chairs. Nick escorted him upstairs and showed him the shower. Harry valiantly attempted to scrub himself awake, but was feeling drowsy after so many hours of drinking. Finally, resigned to a long day ahead, he tilted his head back and let the water beat into his face.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys! I'm going to try and keep updating quickly, but I have classes and my job as well so I'm usually pretty busy. This chapter is a little all over a place since I'm just giving background on some of the summer activities. Next chapter will have Snape, though. Thanks for reading._

3rd week of July.

10:28. With each resounding thwack that Harry heard above the pain, he remembered that he deserved it. _Cedric. Sirius. Tonks. Colin. Percy. Lavender. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Ron hates me. Remus avoids me. Dumbledore doesn't care anymore. Alone. I am alone. I deserve this._

Vernon was displeased because Harry had burned ( _barely, it was just one part that was a little singed)_ the crust of the Shepard's Pie. Then, to make it much worse, Harry had let a glass slip out of his hands while washing it, his panic mounting as he watched it shatter. So, he received the usual consequences from these actions.

Burn the food: get burned. Break something: bleed. Vernon had quickly pushed Harry against the open oven doors when the offense was noticed, forcing his side into the burning shelves, while his knee rested against the door. It was only a moment, and his clothing protected him, but it was unpleasant. After he dropped the glass, Harry knew he was in for it. Vernon, as Harry tried to delicately pick up the shards from the floor, had stepped on his hand, forcing thousands of tiny pieces of glass into his palm. Then Harry was unceremoniously pulled by his shirt up the stairs and into his bedroom. Now, the belt.

Harry resisted crying out. Vernon hated when he made noise. So now, Harry was playing the waiting game. Do everything possible to resist making a sound, and hope to black out from pain soon.

Usually, Harry was very careful to not make small mistakes like that. But he had been going out to meet Nick and Mav almost every night for the past two weeks and was sleep deprived. And starving. Nick had snacks around, but they rarely ate much, just the occasional fruit salad or cheese and crackers. And Petunia usually only donated a slice of bread and water to Harry's cause. So this evening he had spaced out a little, resulting in this extreme pain.

Vernon was mumbling and panting as the belt slammed down again, buckle side now, but Harry could barely hear. Everything was fading out much to his relief. Soon, he would be in another world, where it every moment didn't hurt so much.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

2nd week of August

2:39. Harry stared up at his ceiling, trying to go to sleep. His mind kept replaying the past few weeks, though his body was exhausted. He was the proud owner of tattoos. Mav had printed _Lumos_ on the inside of his left wrist, and _Nox_ on the right. She gave him a haircut too. It had been very long and shaggy, so she shaved the sides and back, but kept the front long. Harry felt more secure like that, not just a replica of his father. It also helped that Nick, due to his wealthy parents, had gone on a shopping spree and bought him loads of new clothes. They were all a little too big for him, but they weren't Dudley sized at least. And Nick had, in typical Nick fashion, purchased almost exclusively black clothing, along with some dark greens and acid wash items. He even got Harry a few pairs of nice trainers. Much to his embarrassment, Harry had also received a few packs of black pants and socks. Harry had tried to refuse, saying that it was too much, but Nick just rolled his eyes and made Harry accept.

Harry sighed. Nick was wild. He was friendly and kind, but very reckless. And handsome. And a drug dealer. That part wasn't so bad though. Harry was fully stocked at all times. He always had at least a half-ounce of weed, a few bottles of liquor, and small baggies of coke and Adderall. Harry was worried, however. He had been drinking and smoking every morning, and then between chores when he could sneak it. It wasn't like he got wasted, but just got enough of a buzz to get through the long days of physical labor. And it make him feel a little number when Vernon roughed him up. A part of him didn't believe he deserved being even a tad numb to the blows, but he continued.

At night, however, he usually did get quite drunk or stoned. Mav had taught him how to skateboard, so they would go to the skatepark and practice while smoking joints and drinking large bottles of cheap beer. Skating felt a bit like flying to Harry. His balance made it easy, and Mav was a good teacher. And Nick, of course, decided to buy him a skateboard, along with one of those bookbags that had a place to attach a skateboard to carry around when he couldn't skate.

After the skatepark, they would return to Nick's always empty house and smoke a lot and watch the telly or die Mav's hair weird colors. It was currently lavender.

For all the wildness that Nick possessed, he was proving to be very protective. He always asked about the latest mark left from Vernon's hands, rolling his eyes at Harry's lame excuses, and trying to get Harry to live with him for the rest of the summer to stay safe. And Harry can't exactly tell them that if he moved out of Number 4, an Order member would notice and come to put him back in the protection of the fucking blood wards. Even though Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore claimed it was for his own good; that the remaining free Death Eaters would be seeking vengeance. Harry's pleas to stay elsewhere, anywhere else, fell on deaf ears. Again. So now Harry, defeater of the Dark Lord, Boy Who Lived, Then Died, Then Came Back to Life, was getting the snot beat out of him by his obese muggle relatives. Rita Skeeter would have a field day.

So Harry knew he was really, truly, alone these days. Hermione had even stopped owling. He was lucky to have received the standard gifts from Mrs. Weasley, plus a new set of very fancy quills and color changing ink from Hermione for his birthday, but Ron had not spoken to him once. And Hermione's birthday letter (the last he had gotten from her) had been stiff and formal. He was very, very alone. But at night, he felt alive and invincible with his friends. Sure, they were muggle, and temporary, but they offered him companionship and enough drugs to be able to push everything into the back of his mind so he could relax and laugh for a few hours a day.

They had made plans for the rest of the summer, pretty much just more of the same, plus a trip into London the last week of August. There, they would also attempt to take a train out to the countryside one night and take acid or shrooms. Harry figured he would just run away early, not that the Dursleys would care much except about losing their house elf.

Harry checked the clock again, and seeing it was just past 3 AM, Harry closed his eyes, praying for sleep.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

4th Week in August

10:30. Harry's body ached. And not just because Vernon had kicked him around last night when Harry complained about the bars being put back on the windows. Last week, Harry was finally caught climbing up the ladder, and his wounds had still not healed from the many lashings. He had been locked up since then, surviving on soup and alcohol.

But now, Harry was slamming his body against the door to his room, desperate to escape. A few hours ago, Petunia had opened the door, tossed him a loaf of bread and two jugs of water, and told him they were going on vacation until the end of the month. Then she had locked the door and was gone.

As Harry's shoulder rammed once again into the door, he felt hopeless. And angry. Which, besides the goofy drunk feelings he had with his friends, was the only strong emotion he had let through in weeks. So when he reared back, he expected nothing except more pain to come from this last attempt. Only, as he surged forward, concentrating purely on breaking the door, it seemed to implode on itself, breaking down completely and leaving only woodchips behind.

"Shit," Harry muttered, hoping that he would not get an owl for that. Then again, he was considered a dark hero of the Wizarding World, and would probably be able to get a free pass for using magic. He shrugged, and rushed to the bathroom, showering away the blood and dirt, almost enjoying the pain it brought to his scarred back. He quickly came back and changed into his skater clothes, and packed his bookbag full of all his drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes, his wand, plus a change of clothes, before running downstairs to the cupboard and pulling out his trunk as quickly as he could, hating to stay in the small space longer than necessary. He proceeded to pack all his new belongings in it and dragged it out to the garden shed.

In the shed, he grabbed his skateboard and started out towards Nick's house. There were no cars parked out front, as usual, so Harry assumed his parents were in London working this week. Nick had told Harry that they primarily lived in London, but let Nick live here during the summers because he likes the house he grew up in before his parents became very wealthy. His father was a partner for a large private financing bank, and his mother worked in PR for a government official. To say the least, they were quite busy. Nick had casually said that they gave him money and freedom in exchange for their long hours. Harry could tell it hurt Nick, but at least they were alive.

Harry pushed open the door and called out. Footsteps hurried down the stairs and he was immediately pulled into a tight, and rather painful, hug.

"Christ, mate, where have you been? I was worried you wouldn't make the trip with us!" Nick spouted off, half yelling, as he released Harry. _Right, the trip to London! Thank Merlin I got out today._

"'Lo, Harry," Mav said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek, and passing him a joint. "We leave bright and early tomorrow, so we're having an early night."

Harry grinned widely. He was free for a week. And then he just went back off to Hogwarts. He could probably avoid the Dursleys entirely. Now, it was time to relax, party for a week, and forget all about the rest of his life.

He took a deep inhale of the joint, his smile widening as Nick tossed an arm around his shoulder and steered him upstairs.

sssssssssssssssssssssssss

2:28. They had just returned from the club. They had been rolling hard on ecstasy while dancing to the heavy, thuddy beats the club rolled out, and were coming down a bit now. The three friends had a wild day, starting with getting very very stoned and taking the train to London, followed by going to their very luxurious hotel room (Nick's parents had made the reservation themselves, Harry found it hard to believe), and had immediately started drinking at two in the afternoon. From there, after a bit of Adderall, they hit a few pubs. They had rested a bit in a park, laying in the grass together drunkenly, before grabbing a piece of pizza (which Harry could only eat a few bites of before feeling sick) and heading to the club. Nick had almost immediately found someone to buy drugs from, and then they danced for hours.

Now, stumbling into their rooms, Nick's mouth somehow became attached to Harry's, with Mav sucking on his neck, and the room became overheated as the night spiraled around them.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys. Here is the new chapter. I know they're all a little Ooc, but there are some reasons for that (plus I'm not Rowling). Hope it's okay! I'll try and upload another within the week._

10:46. Harry awoke to limbs that did not belong to him dangling over him and quite a headache. He looked over at the still sleeping faces of his friends, panic rising slowly as he remembered last night. He carefully removed himself from the bed and hurried into the bathroom, just in time to throw up painfully in the toilet.

Brushing off his mouth with his sleeve, Harry flushed and turned towards the shower, turning it on hot. He slipped his pants off, and began to tug his shirt off when it stuck. _Shit shit shit._ Harry's wounds must have reopened during the night of dancing, and now the blood had sealed his skin to his shirt like blood.

 _Here goes nothing._ Harry pulled hard and fast, whimpering as the new scabs were forced off. The moment afterward, however, felt good, like a sort of warmth spreading through his body. It was similar to the pain he felt almost constantly from his stomach, but sharper and more…pleasurable? In any case, it momentarily distracted him from the realities of last night, and continued once he stepped into the beating shower.

Once he stepped out and dried off, quickly rummaging in his bookbag to grab clean clothes, he stepped out onto the hotel room's deck. It was a nice day out, a little cloudy, but with decent sunshine. Harry took a seat at the table out there and rolled a few joints, relaxing in the familiar motion that took him a week to learn.

After he lights up, he begins to calm. After all, they didn't do much, pretty much just oral all around. It was new to him, but not to the others. Harry just hoped it wouldn't be awkward between them now.

But when Nick steps out an hour later as Harry dozed in the sunlight, it had all returned to normal. He was carrying a tray of mimosas, more joints, and three thick lines of white powder.

"Mornin' mate. Did you sleep well?" Nick asked, handing Harry a drink.

"Guess so, we did all sleep in pretty late," Harry remarked, letting Nick's calm tones guide him out of nervousness. The marijuana he had ingested probably also helped. Luckily, that also had soothed his stomach, so he eagerly began sipping the mimosa, as Mav walked out with a bottle of champagne and pitcher of orange juice.

"Good morning, boys. It is time to get very stoned, drink all of this, snort all of that, and go get piercings," she said with her lilty voice.

Harry believed that cocaine should accompany every morning routine now.

After ingesting everything, the friends went and packed for the day, not preparing to return to the hotel until evening. They decided to split the illegal substances between bags. Nick took Adderall, saving the coke for later, plus his own flask and a few packs of cigarettes.

Mav rolled about five joints and two blunts, plus packed two grams and a bowl alongside it. She filled her flask with her favorite: tequila. She also carried three large cans of Red Bull.

Harry carried the alcohol since it was the least illegal. It was a handle of tequila, a bottle of champagne, and three cans of beer, all wrapped up in a sweater to prevent clinking. He packed his own cigarettes, and kept his wand tucked in a discreet interior pocket.

They all took their skateboards, and headed out to the bustling city streets. The three of them were practically skipping; the rush of substances and the excitement of the city were infecting them. Mav lead them block after block, cigarette after cigarette, until they finally slowed after taking a left.

"I think this is the right street," she said, peering around. Harry did as well, his heart sinking when he noticed a certain dingy pub. _Of fucking course The Leaky Cauldron would be right where we need to be. At least now I can kinda find my way back to buy books._

Mav walked past, not glancing at it, but stopped two doors down at a building that had elaborate graffiti all over it. A sign read Skittle's Tattoos and Piercings. Mav smiled back at the boys over her shoulder and pushed open the door.

Despite the rough area outside the shop, the inside was pristine. It was all clean lines, black and white décor, and little stations for the individual artists. At the entrance desk was a very beautiful black woman with long dreads and tattoos leading up her neck and down her arms. She looked only a few years older than them, and dressed similarly in a cut off tee, dark tight jeans, and black boots.

"Hey crew, I'm Skittles. What are you looking for today," she asked in a raspy voice that surprised Harry.

"Piercings all around, m'lady," Nick replied in his eager, sweet voice that made Skittles laugh.

"Alright, I'll need a copy of your IDs please." She ran them through, handing them paperwork, and only raising an eyebrow at Harry's before shrugging.

"DANNY, TOM!" She yelled, making Harry jump at the loud noise. Two tall lanky guys came out from somewhere in the back, one sporting a Mohawk, the other a ponytail. Harry could tell they were twins though.

"I'm Danny," Mohawk said.

"Tom," the other grinned.

"What are you here for?" They asked together.

"I am in desperate need of a lip ring," Nick said dramatically. Danny nodded, his own lip rings flashing in the light.

"I'm here to get my nipples pierced," Mav said slyly. Skittles grinned at her and pulled her aside.

"I want my septum pierced. But what are the things in your ears called?" Harry asked Tom.

"They're called gauges. Like a very thick earring almost. You would start smaller than mine so your ears don't tear."

"I want those, plus the nose ring," Harry said. Nick whistled his approval and even Tom looked impressed. Harry just shrugged. He had a high pain tolerance.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

3:34. The trio plus their piercers decided to have a little party time in the small alley beside the shop. It was obviously a regular place to hang out, because there was already a few chairs, a very weathered table, and a few small, homemade skate ramps, plus a rail, tucked beside the shop.

Nick immediately starts the party, offering little blue pills to new friends. They gather around the table, watching as Nick methodically crushes it down into a powder and shaping it into lines. Mav brings out joints and Harry pulls out the bottle of tequila, as well as cigarettes. And it begins.

Harry began grinning after his first two lines of Adderall. _Who knew it was this easy to make friends?_ They took shots together, chasing it with Red Bull, followed by the weed and conversation.

After four shots and one joint to himself and many shared, Harry got on his skateboard, feeling a rush of courage even in front of these new people.

"You look hot with those gauges on a skateboard," Skittles called out, Nick wolf-whistling in the background. Harry blushed, glad that Mav got up to join him on her board.

They spent the next hour there, drinking, smoking, skating. It was nearing 5 o'clock when it happened.

Harry was pretty fucked up by then. He was nursing a mixed drink instead of shots in the hope that he would mellow out, and the group had smoked most of the weed Mav had on her. The alcohol and Adderall had made him feel reckless, so, cigarette in hand, he started near the back of the alley on his board. He skated fast towards the first ramp, managing to clear it and do a simple 180. Harry skates past the next ramp but aims for the rail, popping up to grind on it. He was successful, until he tried to push into the air at the end to do another trick. Instead, he practically somersaulted onto the pavement, landing on his back on the busy sidewalk, cigarette still in hand.

"Bloody fuck," Harry moaned, eyes clenched in pain. He took an inhale on his cig, but on his exhale he opened his eyes to see a tall man with dark hair pulled into a bun and dark eyes burning into him.

"Snape?" Harry asked, wondering if he was hallucinating from the fall.

"That's Professor Snape to you, Mr. Potter," the man drawled.

"Oi, mate!," a voice called out, "that was fuckin raw." Nick had approached Harry and began pulling him up. Harry swayed for a moment before crumbling to his knees as the world swirled around him.

"Potter, stay down for another minute before standing unless you wish to suffer another head injury," Snape demanded.

"Who are you? How do you know Harry?" Mav asked, joining Nick and facing off the professor. Snape curled his lip at her but did not reply. Harry scurried to his feet now, seeing that Mav would not leave a good impression for him since she still had a cup in her hand and a cigarette dangling from her pierced lips.

"He's a teacher at my school, guys, relax," Harry motioned them to cool down.

"Indeed. Now, Mr. Potter, will you meet me at the restaurant down the street so I can inspect you without your friends around?" Snape's tone implied that this was not a question, but an order.

"Um, sure, Professor. I'll meet you there in a mo'. Just let me grab my bag." Snape nodded his consent and turned on his heel, walking on down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry turned to his friends, eyes wide in fear. "Let me have a puff and a line, please! This is gonna be rough."

His friends sprang into action. Nick crushed him up a line and Mav packed a bowl while Harry chugged from his flask. He snorted and smoked, finally grabbing his bag. They made plans to meet back at the hotel soon before heading out for the night, and Harry went on his way, surely heading towards his death.

When he pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron, he noticed it was just as it always was; filled with a variety of odd witches, wizards, and magical beings, dim lighting, and the smell of hot food and strong alcohol. The feeling of being surrounded by magic comforted Harry as he made his way to the bar where Snape was waiting. Harry had been so surprised to see him out in Muggle London, that he had not even realized that the man was not in his typical flowing black robes, but instead wore a simple long sleeve gray button up (with the sleeves rolled up, to Harry amazement, so anyone could see the graying Dark Mark on his forearms), black jeans, and nice black boots- probably dragon hide.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, order yourself something to eat and we will move to a more private table," the man requested.

"Just some tea, Tom," Harry said, smiling at the innkeeper behind the bar. Tom nodded, and Harry followed Snape into a small room with only empty tables.

As they seated themselves, Harry's anxiety grew as a rush from Adderall kicked in and he realized he was too fucked up for this.

"Listen Professor, its nice you wanted to chat, but I know you hate me, so I'll just tell Dumbles you were nice, but you can keep on with your day," Harry rambled, avoiding Snape's intense gaze.

"Mr. Potter, on a scale of 1 to 10, how inebriated are you on muggle drugs at this moment?"

"What?" Harry feigned shock, but knew it was a lost cause, "No, you see, sir…"

"Just answer, Potter. It is terribly obvious."

"Well, like a six…" Harry swallowed thickly. _More like nine._ Tom, thankfully, arrived at that moment, carrying two trays. One held plain toast with sides of butter and marmalades, the other filled with some tomato and cucumber finger sandwiches.

"Thank you, Tom," said Harry, beaming, until he realized he definitely looked and sounded wasted. Tom nodded once more, before leaving the two alone again.

"Mr. Potter, much to your distaste, I'm sure, I am going to ask you some questions and urge you to answer honestly. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, feeling panic rise in his throat as he tried to swallow a bite of toast.

"Why are you not with your relatives in Little Surrey?"

"Oh, you see, Professor, they went on a family vacation, so my friends decided to take me to London." That was basically the truth.

"What are you currently 'on'?" Snape peered at him with those intense black eyes, leaning forward. _Fuck. Why is he interested? He's just gonna land me in trouble._

"Just a bit of alcohol, sir," Harry said, attempting to exude a polite and honest tone. It did not work.

"Why do you smell like marijuana? Why are you so fidgety?" Snape clearly did not buy it.

"Well, I'm nervous, ya know? And my piercer was smoking while we were skating, so I guess that's why."

"It is very clear you are lying, but lets move on. Why, Mr. Potter, are you so dreadfully skinny?" That made Harry's stomach twist. He knew not to talk about it. It had never gotten him anywhere besides beaten before. And why would he tell Snape, of all people?

"I'm not that skinny, sir," Harry mumbled, wincing as he heard the lie, knowing it could not be ignored.

"I can see your ribs. The bones in your arms are apparent. Your face is all sharp edges. Do not take me for a fool, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, yet his eyes flashed with something besides disdain.

"Listen, thanks for trying to help, but honestly, I'm fine. I was sick for a few weeks and lost some weight. But I'm fine," Harry said in a monotone. He could feel his defenses rise, creating a form of intense apathy. _I'm fine. I don't matter. Nothing matters. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine._

"Your relatives left you alone after your prolonged illness? A seemingly severe illness at that?" Harry nodded lamely. "That is a dismal display of responsibility," Snape mused. That almost made Harry laugh. The best thing they could have done was leave. Snape peered at him again, sharp eyes seeming to split the 16 year old open.

"Finally, Mr. Potter, where did the mark on you shoulder come from?"

 _Fuck him. Why is he doing this?_ Harry didn't even look at his shoulder, knowing he would see the imprint of a belt buckle where it had been forcibly delivered on his shoulder to the point it broke skin, as well as left a hideous bruise.

"Skateboarding accident, sir," Harry replied, monotone well in place. Snape would see through anything, so why try. It's not like anything will come of this conversation. It's not like Dumbledore will listen.

"Did you fall onto a belt buckle?" The question was delivered coolly, but Harry sensed the venom underneath and winced. _Fuck. Of course I would fucking flinch at the most critical part of the conversation. Fuckin freak. I need to leave. I need to go get wasted. This should not be happening._

"I dunno. Hard fall I guess," Harry said dully, avoiding eye contact. He was trying to keep his breathing in check, but his heart rate seemed to speed up.

"Mr. Potter, even though we have a convoluted history, even though you believe I despise you, I can assure you I will do everything in my power to help you if you're in a difficult or violent situation. You just need to tell me," Snape said calmly and… warmly? _Shit. Does that mean he doesn't hate me? I can't tell, I can't tell, I can't tell. Dumbledore doesn't care. Vernon will kill me before any help can arrive. The number one rule is keep my mouth shut. I've survived this long._ Harry longed to open his mouth and tell this man that he's been starved and beaten and worked since he was a boy, that he slept in a cupboard, that he's been locked up for days at a time, that the belt knows his skin more than any lover can. But no, _I keep my mouth shut._

"Thanks for your concern, sir, but like I said, I'm fine."

At that, Snape sighed and folded his hands together.

"Okay, Potter. Just remember what I said. I am only an owl away," Snape's voice was soft now, but Harry still resisted looking up. Instead, he stared at the Dark Mark displayed on the man's forearm. This was the most skin Harry had ever seen of the reserved man, and he wondered why he was dressed like this. Snape had been a spy for as long as Harry had been alive, and while the Wizarding World was now aware of this, Harry doubted that the image goes over well. And the more Harry stared, the more he noticed thin white lines around the Mark, small scars from something. Harry snapped out of his curiosity though, knowing it would not be welcome.

"Yes, sir. Thanks, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Do you have any questions for me?" _Why were you in muggle London? Why are you showing your Mark? What are those scars? Why are you acting concerned about me? Do you really not hate me? How do you know about muggle drugs? Why isn't your hair greasy right now? You've ignored me for the past year and hated me the four before, why now? And why so late? If you had asked me this when I was eleven, you would have received very different answers._

"I would really appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone, please. Can I go now? My friends are probably waiting for me."

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Remember to get your supplies. And try and be careful."

Harry nodded and left, scurrying out into the streets, before turning into an alley and chugging from his flask, relishing in the after burn.

ssssssssss

As Snape spun back towards his home after a few quick errands in Diagon Alley, he finally allowed his mind to wander to Potter. It was obvious what was going on, but for some reason, he felt it not wise to push it until he gathered more information. Luckily for him, he lived with someone that may have in depth knowledge.

"Hello, dear," Snape said softly as Remus embraced him lightly.

"How did it feel?" Remus asked, concern and excitement lacing his words. _How did what feel? Oh, right. I have gotten quite distracted today._

"It was…manageable. Many people stared, some whispered, some ignored, and the muggles seemed to like it," Snape remarked. While he had been out in Muggle London buying herbs (it was cheaper in bulk from muggles), many people had claimed to think his Dark Mark was "rad" and "totally bril." Snape rolled his eyes. It was not a good thing to be marked as a Dark wizard, regardless of the ideas muggles had floating around in their heads.

"Everyone knows you have been cleared of all charges. Sev, you got a bloody Order of Merlin," Remus started, his temper rising and protective nature flaring. Snape simply put a hand on his chest and the man stilled. Severus was still amazed that the werewolf buried in the man would listen to his touch and tone.

"It will take time, dear. I have never been viewed favorably, and it is not bound to change any time soon. Therefore, I will continue to work with Deinceps on these problems and the many others I possess." Deinceps was his Mind Healer that had been appointed after his trial. Even though he was cleared, it was obvious he was not trusted. However, working with Dein had her benefits, one of which was an increase in patience and a decrease in his flaming temper. Dein had given Severus the homework of roaming about with the Dark Mark exposed. It was not something Severus had ever done, his own deep shame being much more oppressive than a few stares from idiots in Diagon.

"You're okay, then?" Remus was staring at him, face open and caring, and Severus couldn't help but smile a very small amount.

"I'm okay. You do not have to kill anyone on the next moon. Besides, Molly would probably get to them first." Remus grinned at that. The Weasley matriarch was somehow the biggest supporter of their relationship. Not that many knew of it yet, though it has been going on for two years now. The older members of the Order knew, but they had kept it quiet from others.

Remus pulled Severus down onto their sofa, a simple brown leather one that Remus had found while scouring thrift shops during his years as an outcast. They had kept it due to the buttery soft texture and because Severus somehow had a hard time denying his partner anything.

"So, I saw Potter out and about," he started, allowing Remus to unknowingly guide the conversation from this point forward.

"How did he look? Did you speak to him? Did you tell him about us? I bet he hates me. I've been awful. I've been scared, never should have been in bloody Gryffindor if this is how I act…"

"Shush," Snape commanded firmly, while placing a hand on Remus' cheek. "You are a bloody Gryffindor, Remus, but this is not typical courage. He will forgive you if you forgive yourself. If I know anything about the boy, it is that he is forgiving. I'm sure he does not even realize the internalized hatred you put yourself under for something out of you control, you silly bleeding heart." Remus could not forgive himself for the Battle of Hogsmeade occurring during the full moon. He had, once night approached, attempted to lock himself in a cellar, knowing that it was too late to drink the wolfsbane. Someone had released him. He killed two Death Eaters, but unfortunately ran across Marietta Edgecomb. Severus had conjured him in a cage before he could kill her, but she now existed as he does: trembling beneath the full moon every month.

"As for your questions, he is thin. Dangerously so. I inquired and he spouted off about being sick. However, what do you know about the muggles he lives with?"

Severus, watching Remus' anger and magic swirl, immediately deposited the wolf's head into his lap and carded his fingers through the graying hair.

"Harry never talked about them much. It was clear that he never wished to return there for summers, but Albus always insisted due to the blood wards. Why he is still there is rather excessive, but Albus has his reasons. Let's see," Remus paused, thinking, "Ron told Molly that during the summer before their second year, they had to rescue Harry because they had locked him up in his bedroom and put bars on his window and… installed a cat flap, I believe? If they're starving him again, I will go to that house and shred them apart," Remus panted. Severus smiled, never ceasing his movements through the man's hair. He loved how protective Remus got over the people he cared for. He is a gentle soul until one of his loved ones is threatened, and then he is overwhelmed by the need to protect.

"I was just curious, Remus. He does look as if he has changed though. His clothes and…mannerisms are different." _He has piercings, tattoos, a skateboard, and gets inebriated in the middle of the day. Oh yeah, dear, he looks like he gets beaten, too._ Severus was not ready to make a move yet though. The boy had asked him not to mention it to anyone. Snape was currently just probing for more information.

But Severus knew. It was too easy. But how he had not figured it out before now was mind-boggling. Severus always knew by second year, at the latest. He would pick out the students that showed the signs, inform their Head of House, and escort his Slytherins to Madame Pomfrey before chatting with them and attempting relocations. _His celebrity, though despised, did get me. I saw what I wanted, not what was. And no other sodding professor can see past their nose. That's not fair, but Minerva and Filius are too naïve in the ways of neglect and abuse._

Severus relaxed into the sofa further, accepting the book Remus _accio_ ed for him as they settled in to read. He did not read though, not really. While his partner perused pages of his own tome, Severus thought deeply about the strange feelings he was having. Normally, he acted swiftly and immediately. But that was with younger children who, in most cases, are more likely to break down with the truth and accept help. Potter though has been carrying the weight of worlds on his shoulders for years. _He died last year and came back. For the second time he defied death! That has got to increase the pressure on him._

Harry would not be trusting. He would not break and spill his soul. But Severus knew he would have to do something. The boy was clearly suffering if the copious amount of drugs he had probably consumed was telling enough. No, he would need slow, steady, support at school. He had friends, but, oddly enough, after the trials and press conferences, people seemed to distance themselves from the boy, as well as a few other key fighters in the battle. _People are nervous of power. And those that have been touched by Darkness._ And by the end of last year, Potter seemed even more ostracized, even by his own friends.

"Potter was with youths I have never seen before. What happened to Weasley and Granger?" Vague, but Remus probably found it odd that Severus was taking this much interest in the boy.

"Ron," Lupin hissed the word, shocking Severus, "seems to have a problem with gay people. Turned against Harry at the end of last year, or so Molly tells me, and Ginny said Ron has been making others see his point of view too. Claims Harry is just trying to get more attention, and even if he is really gay, it's disgusting and filthy. Molly has just about killed him." The words sank slowly into Snape's mind.

"Are you telling me Harry Potter is gay?" He asked slowly, watching Remus' face carefully. As if he needed to, the man was an open book. The wolf rolled his eyes and nodded.

Severus returned to his book, as casually as possible, all the while amazed and alarmed by what he had learned that day. _Harry Potter still needs help and protection. And for some reason, I don't need my Oath to force me to support him._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys. Thank you so much for the support and reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Hope you like the new installment._

8:52. The scenery flew by as one teenager amongst the sleeping others woke in the compartment. They had been very drunk just a few hours ago, and were now taking an overnight train to land them somewhere close to the New Forest. Harry had few encounters outside of Privet Drive and Hogwarts, so taking a train for five hours to Brockenhurst in order to sleep outside seemed… off.

The last few days in London had been brilliant though. The trio had partied hard all day every day, all night every night. Harry had briefly stopped in at Diagon Alley for his books. It was the only stop he made (since he had everything else and only made an E on the practical Potions O.W.L.), and it felt overwhelming. People whispered around him, but also kept their distance. He should be used to it by now, but it hurt until he gave himself some chants, _I'm fine, I'm fine, they don't matter, I'm fine, I don't need them._ Then he could block it out more and finish up quickly. He had the shopkeeper shrink his books and left immediately after.

Now, though, he could relax. He was anonymous on this train. He was with friends who like him regardless of name. It was so easy. It made him feel one step closer to actually disappearing from the world, just like drinking, and, though it was against his will, starving. He felt as if he could fade out at any moment, peaceful in his departure.

 _Just finish school. Then I can do whatever I want. I can really disappear._

Harry watched as Nick's head slipped onto Mav's shoulder, looking like a painful angle, but both friends slept on. Nick had bought them all CD players and have been switching them around often. Harry was currently listening to Nirvana, the Nevermind album. He did not ever want to stop listening now. The music soothed him, saddened him, and enraged him. He had only been operating between nothingness and inebriated happiness for so long that everything else felt distant, but pleasant. Harry absentmindedly fingered the hem of his jacket as he stared out the window, wishing for more sleep. But he also knew not to sleep without drinking first. Nightmares would come if he was sober, and Harry did not fancy being haunted by old ghosts right now. So as the music played on, Harry started subtly nudging Nick's foot farther apart from the other, stopping whenever he moved or made a noise. It was a long process, or at least felt that way, until Nick finally woke.

"Wha?"

"Nico, we're gonna be there soon," Harry said, pretending he had nothing to do with the boys strange leg position. Nick rearranged himself, shooting Harry a suspicious look.

"You're right. Who wants to do the honors of waking her up," Nick sighed. Mav was not an early riser. And was quite grumpy when she did wake up.

Harry just rolled his eyes before tapping Mav's shoulder and saying in a deep voice, "Are you ready for cocaine?"

Mav's eyes shot open. The boys burst out laughing as she glared at them both.

"Now you guys have to deliver. Fuck, what time is it? Can we get breakfast as soon as we get off? Fuck."

"Calm down, Mavvy," Nick laughed, "It's about 9:30, and yes, sweetheart, we can get breakfast."

"Call me sweetheart again and I will break your nose," she yawned, stretching her long limbs out. "Also, hand me alcohol or something."

Harry dug through his bag while chuckling, finally pulling out a few lukewarm beers. Everyone took one, making a face at the temperature of it in their mouth. Beer should always be cold. However, they slugged it down, and then another each. As Mav was stuffing them under the seats, the train slowed into the correct station and they hurried off.

From there they wandered about the streets for a while, stopping in a diner for breakfast. Nick and Mav feasted, but Harry slowly ate his scrambled eggs, sipping coffee or water after every bite to make sure his stomach didn't turn on him. He was just happy that he managed to finish the whole plate without making a scene.

They stopped by a store and stocked up on snacks, booze, cigarettes, and large bottles of water. After Nick asked for directions, they headed into the forest, avoiding the camping registration desk. After looking at a map of trails, the trio took the one that seemed the longest and most isolated. Along the trail, joints were passed, as well as new (colder) beers. After about an hour of walking, they came upon a small clearing that was filled with wildflowers and green grasses. Large oak trees surrounded it, giving it a protected feeling, while letting the blue skies shine down on them.

"Definitely here," Nick said, branching off the path until he found a place with relatively low grass, but was far enough from the trail that people walking past wouldn't bother to interact with them. Nick settled down his overnight bag and pulled out a large sleeping bag. "Mum used to want me to be an outdoorsman. Tripping in the woods is as close as it gets, but the gear comes in handy."

Mav rolled her eyes, but pulled out a blanket from her bag as well. Harry felt a bit like a burden since he didn't bring anything for today, but Nick told him to set up the snacks and water while they set up the blankets. Harry organized it off to the side in an easy to reach place, trying to prepare himself through tidiness.

Finally, Nick said they were ready, and they all sat down on the surprisingly large open sleeping bag. They were going to all sleep on top of that, with the blanket Mav brought on top of them tonight.

"Just put it on your tongue, Harry, and relax. It's gonna be fun," Nick smiled warmly as Harry placed the small square in his mouth. He watches as Mav did the same, relaxing her body into the fumbled with something, then put it in his mouth and grinned.

"When will it kick in?" Harry asked. He couldn't help but feel nervous.

"Soon, mate, just lay down and look at clouds with us." Harry did as Nick said, settling beside the boy. They stared for awhile, and Harry was getting kind of sleepy, until he noticed he was feeling rather uneasy, and sure enough, when he looked down, the sleeping bag was floating two inches off the ground. Harry carefully slid closer to Nick, hoping to not fall off. Nick was staring at the sky still, so Harry did too, mesmerized by the strange colors of the clouds. It wasn't too strange, but instead of just white, they were a very faint pink, lilac, and green. He quickly got lost watching the clouds go by.

The next thing he knew, Nick was pressing something to his tongue.

"It's just one more dose, don't worry. How are you feeling?" The boy's words came out funny, almost like Harry could feel them with his fingertips.

"I feel nice. The sky is nice. These trees are nice," Harry said, turning his head around the clearing.

"Good, mate," Nick's gentle voice replied. Harry went back to the clouds, noticing they were getting darker but brighter and seemed to be electrified.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

9:22. Harry had recognized a few hours ago that he was definitely on acid. He was enjoying the experience, though it had been almost ten hours since they had taken it and things were not quite as boisterous as before. Mav was dancing though, which was fascinating to watch because parts of her stayed behind each time she twirled and Harry sometimes tried to put her back together but she was always too quick for him. Nick was watching quietly on the blanket, his eyes following his two friends, occasionally drinking water or making Mav drink water.

Harry, all of a sudden, heard his name. He ventured from their makeshift campsite, moving closer to the edge of the woods. He heard it again, calling him, and he started jogging towards the tangled mess of trees, only stopping when he saw her peeking out from behind the large trunk of an old Oak.

"Mum?" She revealed herself now, her long red hair flowing freely. She seemed as if crystals were growing beneath her skin, emitting a faint glow that reminded him all too sharply that she was not really of this world.

"Hello son, I've missed you," she said, reaching out to him. Harry eagerly stepping into those arms, letting love was over him. He was about her height now, which wasn't saying very much, but was an improvement from last year.

"What's going on? How come you're here?" Before, Harry had only been able to see his parents during very turbulent times, such as battle.

"Because, Harry, you need me. I have a message for you, so do try to remember once you are fully back to your mind." Harry felt ashamed. He was on drugs in front of his mother. And who knew when he would get to see her again. She must have noticed his expression because next she said, "The drug you are on right now provided me with an opportunity to speak to you since I know you need me now. That does not mean you should do it again, young man. It's very dangerous. But today at least, it serves a purpose." Her tone was light, teasing almost, but still resonated with her truth.

"I won't, mum. But how can I see you more?"

"You can't," Lily smiled sadly, "You can only see me when I can find ways to make myself visible. But for now, listen. I don't have much time. You need support when you return to the castle. You must not be afraid to open yourself up to strange new possibilities. The war is over, much has changed. I fear you will get lost soon, and all I want is for you to be happy."

"I want to come with you. Take me with you, Mum, that will make me happy," Harry was crying now, tears running down his face. His mother was as well, her face contorted into a deep sadness.

"I know, my Harry, but you need to live. You survived. Now live. I love you so much, son. Stay safe. Find the care you need from the people best able to give it to you. I love you," Lily hugged him again before turning and gliding off into the trees, red hair the last thing he could see.

Harry fell to his knees, his chest aching as he sobbed. _Just come back and take me with you. Take me with you, please. Stop leaving me. Everyone stop leaving me here and take me._

"Mate, what's going on?" Nick was crouching next to him, looking very concerned. Harry wiped his eyes, the world coming back in glaring clarity.

"Nick. I'm tired, I think," Harry whispered to his friend. Nick gently pulled Harry to his feet and walked him back to the blanket. Mav was running her hands through the grass, her face still alight with wonder, though her eyes were drooping. Nick settled down next to Harry and pulled to blanket over both of them.

"C'mon, Mav, time for bed." Mav nodded and laid down too, grabbing her share of the blanket and closing her eyes.

"Nick, did you take any acid?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing that the other boy had not done anything peculiar like himself and Mav.

"Nope. Someone had to make sure you two were okay," he replied with his easy grin. Harry blushed a bit, wondering if he looked like a total fool.

"It's okay, Harry, it'll be fine in the morning," Nick soothed him, putting a hand on top of Harry's and squeezing. For some reason, Harry believed him.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssss

The next morning was better. The trio woke up and smoked some joints on the way back to town, making no mention of the night before. They stopped for coffee and toast before hopping on a train back to Little Surrey. During the ride, Nick and Mav dozed heavily, listening to CDs. But Harry couldn't help but think of his mother, and his anger about being left behind. _Always left behind. I'm the only one that should have died, but I never manage to. Others always die in my place._

When the train reached their station, they headed to Nick's house to decompress. Harry knew he would need to go get his trunk, but that could wait until nightfall. For now, he would just enjoy the last day with his friends.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssss

10:18. Harry was carefully edging around the side of the house, trying to avoid windows as the Dursleys watched television. Nick's mom had arrived to spend a few days with her son before they headed back to London together for the start of school. They said their goodbyes and Harry headed back to Privet Drive. Nick had, of course, restocked Harry's bookbag, to the point that it was difficult to skate with it on since it through off his balance so much, especially because it was a particularly windy night.

Harry crept towards the shed, attempting to be as silent as possible over the dark grass. He eased open the shed door and slipped inside, his heart calming for a few gleeful seconds. Then the winds whipped up and slammed open the door, causing it to bang loudly against the wooden shed. From the house, a loud shouting erupted, and Harry flinched. _Fuck._

The back door opened and Harry quickly put his bookbag and trunk in the far corner of the small room and awaited his fate. He did not have to wait long. Vernon's face loomed in the doorway, curiously peering in until he spotted Harry. His face cracked open with a wide, sinister grin as his formidable body stepped inside.

"Though you'd come back, did ya? Even though you ran away after breaking down my door? Got no place to sleep tonight?" Vernon took another step towards Harry, who had looked down at the floor as soon as his Uncle had started speaking.

Harry took deep breaths, trying not to show fear, but his hands started trembling anyway. He heard the unmistakable noise of Vernon pulling his belt loose, and something in his body collapsed. He kneeled facing away from the large man, hands above his head. Vernon laughed. Then struck. It all felt very slow and far away from Harry. It hurt, but in an aching way. Like he wasn't in his own body any more. Still, the belt carried on in the fast, urgent way Vernon always hits. He is fueled by bursts of anger, not smart enough to be careful in the way he slams the belt buckle across Harry's back. A kick to the side sends Harry sprawling onto the dirty floor, the glass in his frames cracking a bit.

"I'm gonna let everyone know just what you are," Vernon spat beside Harry's ear. Suddenly, there was a rip, but Harry couldn't place it. His vision was fading, thankfully. It went black as he felt a new sensation on his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey everyone! Thanks again for the follows and reviews. Let me know if you have any ideas as well. This is actually a therapeutic activity because of my past with some of these subjects, but I'm always open to new ideas. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

5:53. Harry's eyes snap open at the unexpected cold. It's dim in the shed, and his glasses are a little cracked, but he can make out Petunia's slim frame, holding the running hose over him.

"Hose off and get to school. Vernon's not awake. I'd hurry if I were you," she says in a harsh whisper. Harry nods, and she leaves. His head is aching, and his whole body is radiating in pain. He stands, holding onto a shelf as the world blackens for a moment, then shakes his head and opens his eyes again. His shirt was already off, but he removes his jeans and shoes as well and proceeds to step outside, using the door to block other people's sight. Petunia had trailed the running hose to the door of the shed so he wouldn't have to show his body to the neighbors. The cold water rushed over him, and he tried his best to wash off blood and dirt while trembling. In the end, he just focused on getting his face and arms clean.

Harry threw his dirty pants, jeans, and ripped shirt in his trunk and removed new clothes. He did this numbly, allowing himself to only think about the movements, not about the reasons. It was easier that way. He threw on a black Rolling Stones tee that Nick had, like almost all shirts, ripped the sleeves from, followed by black tight jeans, and the big black Doc Marten boots. Then he put on his only jacket, an acid washed denim one that used to be Mav's, and a black beanie, pushing it far down enough to cover his scar. Wearing these clothes made him feel confident and different. He wasn't the same old kid anymore. He had changed. He was separate, he liked muggle music and drinking, not just Quidditch and pranks.

He slung his heavy bookbag over his shoulder and pulled the trunk behind him towards the street. It was still dim outside, but he cautiously looked around before sticking his wand in the air.

With the telltale bang, the Knight Bus appeared. A slender young woman hopped off and greeted Harry with a smile. He ducked his head and gave her the money, asking for King's Cross. She eyed him suspiciously, but didn't say anything.

He didn't have to be on for long, there were only two people ahead of him that weren't going to the train station. But when they arrived, Harry realized it wasn't even 7 AM yet. He had over four hours before he needed to step through to the platform. So, of course, he walked to a convenience store and bought a large bottle of water, an apple, and a few more packs of cigarettes.

He eased his way back through the crowds, and stepped through the barrier to the empty platform. Harry wandered towards the outskirts and sat himself down. He proceeded to roll two joints, and fished a warm can of beer from his bag. He drank and smoked lazily, before chugging some water down. The apple made his stomach hurt, but that wasn't new, so he forced it down and proceeded to chain smoke for the next hour. He sipped on another beer and perused some textbooks half-heartedly. He threw away his trash and slipped into a doze, his head resting against the brick wall until the noise of a train pulled him back to reality.

By the time the gleaming red steam engine pulled up, Harry was feeling a lot better and a little stoned. He watched from a distance as people began piling onto the platform, all families saying their goodbyes. He hopped onto the train, hurrying not to be seen, and locked one of the back compartments before taking a deep breath. The sounds of other people boarding trickled in under the door, but Harry ignored it. Instead, he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards himself. He learned the glamour charm his third year, and while he never had to use it extensively like today, he was glad he had been practicing. This time he had to cover his whole torso, up to his chin and down to his knees, plus make him look less skinny. _Now I look more like everyone thinks I do. No handprints, no bruises, and definitely no torn up back, marred by a belt._

Harry pulled out one of his new texts and started reading half-heartedly. The train started moving and he rested his head against the cold windowsill, realizing gloomily that his head felt very warm against it. He dozed like that for awhile, flipping through his Defense text, when a knock came at the door. Harry's eyebrows lifted, but he unlocked it and slid it open.

Draco Malfoy stepped through, looking…nervous? He was dressed in fitted black trousers and a silk green tee with a blazer tossed over it.

"Erm, what do you want?" Harry asked warily. Malfoy had ignored him last year, though had proved his place firmly in the Light during the Battle of Hogsmeade.

"Everywhere else is full. Do you mind? I won't bother you," the blonde said grimly, his voice lost of the usual pompous tone. Then again, Harry didn't think he'd heard Draco speak since the Battle, aside from whispers in the corridors and a remark or two in classes.

"It's fine," Harry said, sitting back down and leaning against the window again. Malfoy slid across from and pulled a book from his bag.

They sat like that for the majority of the trip, Malfoy reading what looked like a complicated text on Astronomy, and Harry skimming his summer reading while trying to stay awake. When the sun started to set, they both stood and pulled their robes from their trunks. Harry just removed his jacket and threw on the robes, which sadly were only a little short from last year. After Umbridge had been forcibly removed, no one bothered with the full uniform. McGonagall would get after students who looked "innapropriate" but as long as they had on the long robes, no one cared if they wore muggle clothes underneath.

Malfoy, while not technically in perfect uniform, did have a button up on, and a tie, but the shirt was gray and the tie green, with a very small tiepin that looked like a silver snake. The blonde kept adjusting his shirt and tie, even as they pulled to a stop.

"Mate, ya look good, stop fidgeting," Harry said, brushing past him in order to get off the train and into a carriage as fast as possible. Malfoy hurried after him and they set off in a carriage before anyone else could get to it.

As they neared the castle, Harry felt his anxiety rise. He would have to sit at the Gryffindor table, listen to them chat on and on, pretend that the fact Ron hated him wasn't getting to him, and push everyone away.

 _I don't deserve friends in this world. I am a freak. I should have died. There's something wrong with me._

"You alright?" Malfoy asked, startling Harry. His grey eyes were peering at Harry's knee that had been moving non-stop as he tapped his foot. Harry stopped.

"Yeah, you?" Harry questioned, a bit snappishly. Malfoy nodded, looking a bit confused. _He isn't the only one. Wonder why he's not with his usual band of Slytherins? Then again, Goyle is gone and Crabbe's father is in prison with Lucius. Who the fuck knows what the other Snakes are like._

When they arrived and jumped out, the trekked to the Great Hall together and nodded as they reached the door. Malfoy went forward, but Harry swung around and trotted up one flight of stairs before he was stopped.

"Mr. Potter? Where are you going when the feast is about to begin?" Snape's voice cut through the air, forcing Harry to look up. The man, dressed in his usual all black, was standing two steps above him and gazing down forcefully.

"Sorry, sir. I was just tired, wanted to get some sleep," Harry whispered, hating that he was suddenly intimidated.

"You must attend the feast. You do not have to stay for pudding, but you do have to remain for the majority. You are not above tradition. Please turn around and find your seat."

Harry scowled but nodded, put his head back down, and swiftly went down the steps and through the door into the Great Hall. He took a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table and stared down at his empty plate. There were too many people around him, too much noise. His foot started tapping again. He fiddled with his fingers. It was getting hot. He needed a drink. And a cigarette. _Damn it, I need a smoke. Hurry up, hurry up._

The sorting happened. He clapped when appropriate. He couldn't even hear the names through his fog. Food appeared. He had to make it to pudding.

"Did you see what he's wearing? Looks like one of those grunge punks." That was Seamus. Bloody idiot, as usual.

"He looks like what he is. A fuckin poof trying to get attention," replied Ron. Harry's heart ached. He scooped up some green beans and put them on his plate. He didn't touch them.

"I heard he's not the only fag around. Malfoy came out this summer. Didn't go over too well with some of his friends, I heard," Pavarti contributed. _At least that makes sense now._

"Course it didn't. Even Slytherins know that it's wrong," Ron laughed.

"You are all so _stupid_ sometimes. It's not wrong. It just is. And you're all acting horrible over something that shouldn't matter," said a strong voice, filled with outrage. Hermione. Definitely Hermione. Muttering broke out after that, but no one said anything more on the subject. Harry added a roll to his plate. He didn't touch that either.

The noise was getting louder. Harry tried to block it out, but it felt overwhelming, like he was trapped by it. His hands started shaking. He put potatoes on his plate, then pushed it away. He took a few sips of pumpkin juice. He wished it had alcohol in it. Then he started reciting all the spells he knew.

That helped. He was just entering Dark curses territory when Dumbledore stood up. Harry continued listing spells, tuning out the man. At least it was quieter now; or at least until clapping and cheering started. Harry looked up and saw that Lupin was standing up at the front, smiling widely.

Harry's heart sank. He loved Lupin. But the man hadn't spoken to Harry in almost a year. Now he was just another person ignoring him. _Now I have to go to his class and listen to his bloody excuses for avoiding me._ The thought made Harry angry. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into skin. _I don't want an apology. He clearly meant to stay away. He should keep it going. I don't want anything to do with him anymore._

The scarred werewolf was sitting between Snape and Sprout. Dumbledore was cushioned between Snape and McGonagall, per usual. Harry avoided eye contact with the old wizard, but accidentally caught Snape's instead. The man gave a very small nod, and turned away to talk to Lupin. Harry relaxed his fists in confusion. Why was Snape being…not pleasant, but at least cordial? And to Lupin, too, it seemed. They were all sharing conversation politely.

Dumbledore finished with his typical warnings, and the volume of the room creeped up again. Harry turned back to his plate to see it was gone, and replaced with a clean one for pudding. _Thank fucking Merlin._

However, just as he stood, Hermione approached.

"Harry, where were you on the train? I couldn't find you," she started in eagerly, giving him a tight hug. He flinched away and she paused.

"Sorry, Hermione, it's nice to see you, but I have to go," he said stiffly.

"What? Harry, what's going on? You stop replying to me this summer and now you're avoiding me?"

"Listen, I'm fine. I just think it'll be easier for you if you stay away from me. We're gonna be busy anyway with NEWTS work, so I'll just see you in the library, alright?" Harry quickly backed away from her, and edged out the Great Hall doorway.

He trotted up a few staircases until he hit the fourth floor. He bypassed the library, continuing along the corridor until the small overhanging balcony. He immediately lit a cigarette and perched on the wide railing. The view from up there was stunning, and helped Harry calm down. The mountains were black shadows against the deep, hazy sky, while the stars gleamed blurry overhead. The moon hung low over the valley, reflecting into the Black Lake. Wind whipped up and curled around Harry's face, soothing him and catching the smoke from his lips.

Harry lit another after the first one, this time leaning back to examine the sky as he smoked. He almost wished he had acid right now. It felt great until he saw his mum. He just wanted to go back to being gloriously drunk and not having to interact with anyone except Nick and Mav. _But even that's not right. I still had to go back to Vernon's house to be his little house-elf._ Harry sighed and tried to remember the constellations, but couldn't seem to put any together except for the names of the Black family.

He stared at the sky until he finished smoking, and then stared a little more. Only when his hands started to shake from the wind did he stand and head towards Gryffindor Tower. And when he got there, he wished he had never left the balcony in the first place.

After sneaking in with some straggling third years, Harry turned to go up to his dorm, but was met in the doorway by Ron and Seamus. His trunk and bag were in front of their feet. _Great. Just what I want._

"We don't want you sleeping in the same room as us," Ron stated gravely, giving the trunk a nudge with his foot, "So find somewhere else." Behind him Harry could see Neville and Dean, both with red cheeks, and Neville was mouthing "I'm sorry." Dean wouldn't meet Harry's eye.

"Right then," Harry said, casting a levitation charm on his trunk and swinging his bag over his aching shoulders.

"Now we're safe from him tryna jump us in our sleep," Seamus laughed towards the other boys as Harry turned away.

"Like anybody'd wanna jump you," Harry muttered darkly.

"Watch your mouth, faggot," Seamus barked, though his cheeks were pink.

Harry just shrugged and walked away, his trunk floating in front of him. Seamus couldn't really hurt Harry. He was a weak student, and nothing compared to the Cruciatus, or even Vernon's belt.

Harry exited the common room before even learning the password, and walked off down the halls, aimlessly wandering. It took seeing the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy for Harry to realize what a perfect idea it was.

He walked back and forth three times, repeating, _I want somewhere safe for me to live, I want somewhere safe for me to live, I want somewhere safe for me to live._

The door appeared. It was a plain black door with a gold knob. When Harry opened it, his mouth dropped open. The room had definitely done a good job. It had high ceilings, and stretched back pretty far. There was a large four-poster bed with grey hangings and a pale blue comforter, along with a nice, sturdy wardrobe against the right side of the room. On the left was a desk with a nice leather chair, tucked under a window. A bookcase was right beside it. Further down was a sofa and table, both worn, but looked comfy. There was a door that Harry assumed led to a bathroom. The best part, however, was definitely the half pipe and ramps that lined the back wall.

"Thank you," Harry whispered to no one. Then he got started. He put all his new clothes in the wardrobe, tucked his new shoes under the bed, and placed his belt on a hook. He got all his textbooks together and put them either in the bookshelf if they were old, or on his desk if he needed them this year. He tossed extra parchment and quills on the desk or stowed it inside his bag. He kept the Maurader's Map and his invisibility cloak in the trunk for now. Finally, he dragged his bag to the side of the sofa. He pulled out the handle of tequila, placing it firmly in the middle of the table. Next he pulled out the last of beer cans, some mini-bottles of a variety of liquor, and too many cigarette packs to count. In the front pockets, he rummaged around and grabbed the baggies of Adderall and cocaine. Finally, from the trunk, Harry pulled out his big bag of weed. It was at least two ounces because Harry had been storing it for the past few months, only smoking small amounts of what Nick gave him every other night. There was still a small bag in his bookbag with weed and rolling papers, but Harry decided to leave that there, just in case.

"Um, Room? Can I have somewhere to store this stuff?"

A small, ornately carved trunk appeared, pressed against the wall beside the sofa. When Harry opened it, he saw that it had a few different compartments. _Perfect._

"Can I have a cup?" A tall bronze cup showed up on the table, and Harry gleefully poured in some tequila. He pulled some weed from his bag, and then packed all his drugs and alcohol away in the box. He rolled a joint, drank his drink, and skated a few laps on his board before settling in at his desk to do the homework he had been forced to neglect all summer. _It was a rocky start, but things are looking up right now._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey, everyone! Thanks for the reviews and suggestions. I really appreciate them, so feel free! Especially tell me what you want from Lupin. I'm a little lost with him, right now. The class schedule I made for Harry is a little overwhelming, but that's because McGonagall made it for him. Also, this is the last big drama before Harry gets back into the flow of Hogwarts._

8:00. Harry woke up to the alarm the next morning. The bed was comfy, but his back ached horribly. When he tried to take off his shirt, he realized it was stuck again, therefore forcing him to rip it off. Harry took a deep breath and relaxed into the pain, even though he could feel blood running down his shoulder blades.

He dressed in a plain black tee, black jeans, and the boots from yesterday. He sat in his desk chair and packed his bag, smoking a joint. He didn't want to have to stay in the Great Hall longer than he had to, so he was going to arrive at the very end of breakfast to retrieve his class schedule.

After his joint, he loitered some more, smoking a cigarette until he absolutely had to go down. He threw his bag over his aching shoulder and left, using some back staircases to avoid the crowds. When he reached the Hall, it was emptying out, but McGonagall was still handing out pieces of parchment. He tapped her on the shoulder and smiled widely.

"Hullo, Professor, schedule please?" She gave him a stern glance behind her spectacles.

"Mr. Potter. Just so you know, I have taken it upon myself to sign you up for Potions due to the entry grade change."

"What? But I only got an O in theory, and an E in my practical. That's not good enough for Snape," Harry's heart started hammering.

"Due to complaints about his strict guidelines, _Professor_ Snape has allowed grades such as yours into his classroom. Given that Potions is required in a wide variety of professions, including Auror, I hope you keep up the good work. Now get to class Mr. Potter," McGonagall left no room for discussion, turning her back on Harry and stalking back up to the front of the hall to chat with other professors.

 _Fucking hell._ Harry's schedule, full of Double Period blocks, left little time to hole himself up in his new room.

Monday: Double DADA, free between break and lunch, then a Double Potions

Tuesday: Free all morning, then Double Transfiguration

Wednesday: Double Charms, free between break and lunch, Double Care of Magical Creatures

Thursday: Double Potions, break and lunch free, Double Transfiguration

Friday: Free all morning, Double Herbology.

Harry rolled his eye, scurrying out of the Hall and down the few steps to the kitchens. He tickled the pear, and stepped in, immediately swarmed by elves.

"Can I just get a cup of coffee, black, to go? I got class," Harry said, cringing as a chorus of "Yes Master Harry Potter" rang out. He grabbed the large cup, as well as an apple and muffin they also brought. "Cheers, guys, I'll see ya soon."

Harry rushed up the stairs, skidding through the Defense classroom's door just as it was closing. It was a pretty full class, since you only had to make at least one E to get in. He took a seat in the back by the door, ignoring making eye contact with anyone and choosing to sip his coffee.

He muttered a "here" when Lupin called roll, but avoided looking up as he started the lesson. _Non-verbal spells are apparently important, blah blah_.

"Potter, where'd you get coffee?" Harry's eyes shot up to see Malfoy beside him, stretched out lazily in his chair.

"Kitchens, why?"

"Snape won't let us have coffee at the Slytherin table, though he drinks about four cups a day. How'd you get to the kitchens?"

"You really don't know?" Malfoy shook his head glumly and rolled his eyes at Harry's hesitation. The rest of the class was preoccupied with something or another, and no one even glanced at Harry.

"It's easy. Just go under the Hall, find the painting of a bowl of fruit, and tickle the pear."

"Tickle the pear?" Malfoy asked, incredulous.

"Yep, if you don't believe me, fine," Harry shrugged, turning to face his desk again.

"No, I'll try it. Thanks, mate." Harry just nodded, flipping through his textbook idly. Eventually, Lupin asked them to pair up and practice disarming without speaking. He shot a glance at Malfoy, who nodded back to him.

They stood, facing each other, Malfoy trying first. Harry felt his wand push against his hand, but nothing more.

However, when Harry tried, focusing very hard on imagining the spell working as he waved his wand and thought the incantation, Malfoy's wand flew across the floor, clattering loudly. Malfoy rolled his eyes and Harry couldn't help but smirk at him. Malfoy tentatively returned his grin, but both vanished when Lupin came over.

"Great job, Harry. You're a natural, of course. Do either of you have any questions for me?" Lupin said excitedly, but his smile faded as both boys just stared mutely at him. "Right, then, good job, keep practicing."

After he walked away, Malfoy peered uncertainly at Harry. "I thought you were friends with him?"

"Things change," Harry shrugged, "Try and disarm me again."

After class, Harry wandered to a balcony and perched again, smoking a cigarette and slowly eating the apple from earlier. He nibbled at the muffin, but it turned his stomach, so he threw crumbs off for the birds circling the towers lazily.

He smoked another cigarette and watched the clouds before taking a long route down to the dungeons, still arriving ten minutes early. He took his seat in the back, near the door, and tapped his fingers. He felt anxious. Potions was always a disaster somehow, and he wasn't in the mood to be yelled at, or be the victim of a prank.

Other students started trickling in, including Ron who glowered at him, kicking his chair as he passed by. Malfoy took a seat beside Harry a moment after.

"Five points from Gryffindor for brute hostility," Snape said smoothly, billowing into the room and slamming the door shut. "Now, I understand two of you were not expecting to be in this class, so go to the potions cupboard. Somewhere in the bottom there should be a few used textbooks. I expect you to return those by next week, along with the summer homework."

Harry and Ron both rose, walking towards the cupboard. Ron blocked Harry off and grabbed what looked to be a brand new copy of Advanced Potion Making. There was only one left, a tattered and ink stained copy that Harry picked up.

Harry returned to his seat just to hear Snape say, "Instructions are on the board. There are further details in your book if needed. Begin."

From his seat in the back, Snape's instructions seemed fuzzy, so Harry just flipped to the Amortentia page in his book. To his surprise, Malfoy returned with ingredient for Harry as well.

"Cheers," Harry said, nodding. Malfoy nodded back and got to work. The page in the textbook was covered in spidery black writing, seemingly re-writing the instructions with slight differences and new techniques. It was too hard to see through the ink to the original text, and the board was too fuzzy, so Harry just followed the handwritten instructions. _It's not like I'm supposed to be in here anyway. If I fail today, maybe he'll just kick me out for good._

An hour and a half later, as Harry stirred counter-clockwise ten times, not nine like the original instructions; Harry realized that his potion was perfect. Not just good, but exactly as it should be according to Snape.

Speaking of, the man was making his rounds, criticizing Ron heavily. Harry closed his new textbook slid it out of view.

"Good job, Draco," Snape said softly. Harry almost rolled his eyes. Malfoy was the best at Potions in their grade, and let everyone, especially Hermione, know it. Snape stopped above Harry's cauldron, his eyes going just a little wider. He looked at Harry closely but nodded slightly.

"Time to clean up. If your potion is worth saving, bring a sample to the front," Snape barked. "And if my classroom is not spotless, all of you will be cleaning the entirety of the dungeon floors in detention."

Harry slowly packed and cleaned, hoping to avoid interacting with anyone in the hallway. He put his sample on Snape's desk, and picked up his bag. Malfoy was lingering behind as well, probably to talk to his Head of House, so Harry exited. He only made it about a yard before he was slammed against the wall, his head banging on the stone.

"Fucking freak," Ron spat at him. Harry quickly realized Seamus was the one pinning him and ceased struggling. Both boys were much larger than him and it was rather hopeless in the first place.

"I bet you wish you could get with me, Potter," Seamus growled. _Is this really over me saying that no one would want to sleep with him? Merlin._

Ron landed a quick punch to his stomach, then another, and another. Harry's vision faded, the noise around him dimming. He did hear a shout, and then he was pushed once more against the wall before collapsing.

"Professor!" Harry heard someone call as he rested his head against the wall and breathed hard and fast. Two figues loomed over him and he cringed.

"It's Malfoy and Professor Snape," a voice said, and Harry relaxed a little. As long as it wasn't Vernon, who cares?

"I need to get you to the hospital wing," the voice stated. Harry reacted quite poorly.

"NO, I won't go there, you can't make me. Please don't take me there, please, I'm fine, I'm fine," Harry struggled to get up. A hand reached for him, but Harry threw himself back, hitting his head against the wall again. The room swirled, and darkened into bliss.

" _Ennervate."_

Harry woke with a jump.

"What the fuck happened," he moaned. His head was pounding and his heart was racing. His back felt much worse than before, if that was even possible.

"You were attacked in the hallway and refused to go to the Hospital Wing, so I brought you into my office."

"Snape?" Harry questioned. Someone behind him sniggered.

"Professor Snape, yes. Here are your glasses Mr. Potter. No, do not try to sit up yet, you may have a concussion."

Harry put on his glasses, the world slamming back into place. Snape was peering at him and Malfoy was behind him, eyes wide and concerned. Harry was lying on a sofa in the foreboding office, pickled creatures peering down at him.

"Thank you. Um, I'm gonna go now, though. I've had concussions before and I don't think I have one now. I'm alright," Harry muttered, looking past both of them to the wall.

"I don't think so. I have to examine you. You were just punched and thrown against a wall. Mr. Malfoy can leave if you wish, but I have to ascertain your safety," Snape said firmly.

"Fine. Sorry, Malfoy, but I'd rather suffer through this with some dignity intact. I'll see you later," Harry waved the blonde off before turning to glare at the older man.

Snape returned the glare, but calmly told Harry he would perform a diagnostic charm before waving his wand over Harry's body.

Harry watched as a sheet of parchment appeared, apparently full of Harry's injuries, and Snape's face turned dark. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the professor took a furtive step forwards, a hand reaching out. He was suddenly lost. He just knew there was a large man angrily moving towards him, so he put his hands over his head and curled to protect his stomach. His breathing increased rapidly, his heart beating painfully against his chest.

"Mr. Potter," someone said, from very far away. Harry curled up tighter.

"Harry, Harry, can you hear me," the voice asked, softer this time. He nodded, eyes still closed.

"That's good, Harry. Feel the sofa for me and take a deep breath in… just like that, and exhale slowly. Good, now let's do it again," the voice coached him through another five breaths as Harry's hands crept along the upholstery, feeling its worn fabric under his fingers.

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"Definitely not my Uncle's house," Harry whispered. Petunia would never allow the furniture to feel so threadbare.

"No, you're not. Can you open your eyes?" Feeling reassured, Harry tentatively cracked his eyes open. _Shit. What just happened? Why am I in Snape's office? Why is he looking at me like that? '_

"Um, what happened, sir?" Snape gave him a curious look, but Harry ducked his head down.

"It seems you had a panic attack and disassociated," Snape started. Harry gave him a blank look. "You, due to increased panic, temporarily forgot where you were and who was around you. You were triggered into believing you were in harms way, and reacted as such. Completely understandable given the past fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Well, erm, sorry for freaking out," Harry said, twisting his hands together. _Freak, freak, freak._

"Do not apologize. I, on the other hand, am sorry for my actions, which initiated it. I should not have made such sudden movements when I knew you were unsettled and injured."

Harry stared up in surprise. _Did Snape just apologize to me? For scaring me? Merlin, of course he knows how pathetic I am, shit._ Harry nodded and turned back to his hands.

"I'm going to give you a fever reducer, as well as a pain reliever. I will also have to look at your back and ribs. Would you like the potions first?"

"How about I only have the potions? I'm fine taking care of myself," Harry mumbled, sitting up, feeling the anxiety creep up again. _Snape does not want to see my back._

"It is either Madame Pomfrey or myself."

"Promise me you won't go to Dumbledore. Then I'll let you heal me," Harry said fiercely. He doubted he would be able to get away with this. _Stupid fucking Ron. Stupid fucking me for letting that happen. Merlin, way to be off guard on the first day back._

"You have to be willing to do exactly as I say, Mr. Potter."

"Deal."

"Deal," Snape replied, _accioing_ two bottles. Harry drank them down, feeling some of the pain ease off immediately. Snape told him to remove his robe and shirt. Harry grimaced, throwing off the robe, and let out a whimper as he ripped open his scars for the second time today as he forced the shirt over his head.

"You could have asked for my assistance so that would not have injured you," Snape said, his tone incredulous. Harry shrugged. "You are going to have to remove your glamour so I can see what needs to be healed."

 _Fuck. Right._ Harry cast a _finite incantatem,_ feeling almost pleased when he watched Snape's face contort. His chest had a large bruise expanding from the right side, as well as a few small ones scattered here and there. There were bruises in the shape of Vernon's big, ugly hand around Harry's neck (though Harry wasn't even sure when he had been choked), and a scraped chin from falling in the shed. Harry couldn't see his back, and neither could Snape at the moment, but he knew it was awful. It felt awful. It felt worse than usual, actually.

Snape set to work, first aiming his wand at Harry's prominent ribs and muttering something under his breath. Something inside him jolted and clicked, jarring Harry, but not causing him much pain. Snape held up a jar of what looked to be bruise salve. Harry nodded and the man spread some across the bruises on his chest.

"I'm going to touch your neck now, Mr. Potter, is that alright?" Harry nodded, bracing himself, and felt very gentle fingers apply the cool salve. Harry took a few deep breaths, but then it was over.

"Please turn around." Harry did, hearing the slight intake of breath from the other man. _Must be worse than I thought._

"Have you seen your back?"

"No, sir," Harry sighed, a bit confused. Snape already saw the belt buckle this summer, why was he acting like this.

"I regret to inform you that, aside from the obvious use of a belt, it appears your uncle seems to have carved something into your shoulder," Snape said, his voice teetering between anger and exhaustion.

Vernon's words came back to Harry suddenly. ' _I'm gonna let everyone know just what you are.' Shit. He meant it. Oh shit. Oh shit._

"My relatives had nothing to do with my back, sir," Harry said coldly. "I was mugged yesterday by a local gang."

"This local gang uses belts? And presumably attacked you earlier in the summer as well? They typically go around, carving words into people?"

"Gang violence is on the rise. People get jumped all the time," Harry spat. Snape looked at him curiously. He obviously saw right through Harry's lie, but simply replied with, "Indeed." He then proceeded to use the stitching charm multiple times over Harry's back, then rubbed what he said was a numbing gel over it all. By the time he was finished with that gel, as well as an infection fighting one, Harry had calmed down considerably. The man's hands felt opposite to what Harry thought of his professor; they were warm and gentle, though definitely calloused. Snape was also acting very calm and professional. Harry felt almost… cared for by the time Snape laid strips of gauze over the worst areas, using a sticking charm to hold them in place.

"Because most of these are old, slightly infected, and caused by muggle means, they will leave scars. But you must come down to this office every morning so I can reapply the balms and change the bandages. Shower tomorrow morning before arriving. And Potter," Snape said, calling Harry's attention back from pulling on his robes, "I will not tell Dumbledore, but I can offer you help if you let me."

Harry nodded, avoiding the black eyes that followed his movements. Snape followed him from the room, presumably to go back to his quarters. But he didn't stop following him as Harry used the back staircases.

"Sir? Where are you going?"

"I'm making sure you make it to your room safely. Your body is in a lot of pain and I do not wish for my efforts to unravel should you stumble or be attacked. Where are you sleeping these days, anyway?"

"Um, what do you mean?" _How does this man know every bloody thing. He's almost as bad as Dumbledore._

"Surely you are not residing in the same room as your attackers?"

"Erm, no. I'm in the Room of Requirement." Snape nodded, continuing to follow Harry up the many flights of stairs.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"What is the word?" Harry couldn't help but ask, the curiosity worth more than his low sense of self-preservation.

"It spells 'freak.'" Harry nodded. _Of course it was. Didn't think it could be anything else, really. Now Snape thinks I'm such a pathetic arse._ They continued in silence until they reached the seventh floor. Harry paced in front of the RoR, and reached for the doorknob. Snape's voice stopped him.

"Why did they turn against you? Weasley, that is."

"Because, sir," Harry started, venom in his voice, "I'm a faggot. I don't deserve friends. Didn't you read my shoulder?"

With that, he turned and entered the safety of his room.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Severus was disturbed. Outraged. Furious. Confused. Severus was considering using at least two of the Unforgivables. Harry Potter was very, very badly abused. He was stick thin, to start. He was covered in the marks a belt leaves. His rib was broken. His throat was swollen from strangling. And someone had the audacity to carve the word 'freak' on the teen's back.

Severus was ready to kill. In the years he has spent protecting the boy from danger, he had grown slightly protective. _I had to. That boy is always getting in some sort of trouble._ But never had Severus considered that he was in a life-threatening situation at his relative's residence.

The feeling of failure flooded through his system as he entered his quarters. He sat down in his favorite chair, flicking his wand at his fireplace to light it. Remus wouldn't be in for another thirty minutes since he had some third years now. Then they would go to dinner together. So, Severus had thirty minutes to calm down.

He would keep his promise to Potter and not tell anyone, including his partner, in order to build some trust with the kid. Harry seemed to alternate between numb and angry, but the anger was definitely directed internally. And Severus understood those two modes of operation very well. It was a protection because the rest hurt too much. The boy was terrified. No doubt he had been told a variety of awful things would happen if he told the truth. And this particular boy had very little reason to trust any adult. They were either trying to kill him or trying to use him to save the world. Black, the only semi-father figure in his life, had died, and Remus was absent for a long time, though was now probably going to try to overcompensate. Now his friends had abandoned him, or struck an outright campaign against him. The young Potter must be feeling very, very alone.

Draco, the new loner in his house, seems to be trying to make friends, or maybe just has a crush on him. Severus sighed, tapping his fingers together. Draco is another problem this year. No doubt he too will seek living arrangements elsewhere soon. Crabbe hated him; not that it meant much since the large boy was barely intelligent enough to act on it. Nott and Zabini, though from neutral families, had followed in the old pure-blooded mindset that since gays can not naturally produce heirs, they are less than. The boys had refused to speak to Draco since. Luckily the girls in Slytherin were less hostile. Pansy, it seemed, was overjoyed.

Severus buried his face in his hands, his eyes firmly shut against the headache that was coming on. This was going to be a difficult year. Keeping things from Remus was always difficult, but once he knew what was going on with Harry, the man would approach things head on. Potter, as seen from today, needed something different. So Severus resigned himself to gaining the boy's trust and keeping an eye on him. Though he couldn't wait for his partner to come home. Remus always offered comfort and rarely asked for explanations. He understood Severus would tell him when he was ready. And all Severus wished to do was to rest his head in that warm space under Remus's chin and let the man rub his back and card his hair until he fell asleep. However, he had a few hours to scheme before he could do that. And Potter was not the only problem child this year.

However, Draco could turn out to be an advantage. They sat together in class today and seemed quietly respectful of each other. Maybe when Draco approaches him tonight, he could subtly suggest the Room of Requirement. It would be good for them not to live alone, especially since they don't seem to be in peak mental health.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Please keep sending suggestions! I love it. This chapter is more filler-explaining Harry getting back into a Hogwart's schedule. Suggestions about what a teenage wizard party would be like would be great, just saying. Enjoy!  
_

7:25. Harry exhaled the smoke as he hopped off his skateboard. It had been a long day, so despite the remaining pain, he had decided to skate around a bit after Snape dropped him off. It had helped cool him down.

Now, though, he settled into his desk chair, drink in hand. He had asked the room for orange juice, and luckily, it seemed to have a connection with the kitchens. So now he was sipping his mixed drink and starting his Charms paper. He had only written a foot and a half and taken a short break when, in the middle of rolling a joint, the door opened. Harry's heart dropped. _If it's a professor, I am so screwed._

It wasn't. It was Draco Malfoy, and he looked just as stunned to see Harry.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, standing from his desk.

"I asked the room for a place for me to live. Why are you here?"

"Same thing," Harry replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, well I'll find somewhere else," Draco said, his jaw set. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Just stay here," Harry said, then turned to the expanse of the room, "Room, can we get another bed and other stuff for Malfoy?"

Immediately a new bed, wardrobe and desk appeared, as well as a few chairs around the table. His bed hangings were dark green, and the chairs seemed a lot fancier than the sofa and table Harry had received. Malfoy said thank you, his eyes wide and sincere. Harry shrugged and turned back to his Charms essay. He watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye though. The blonde unpacked his trunk, casting ironing charms on all his clothes as he hung them up. He placed a bunch of books on the unused shelves of the bookshelf, in what seemed to be alphabetical order within different genres. When Malfoy arranged his desk, it was with precise right angles and clear order, opposite of the mess Harry had made. Malfoy had also brought along picture frames, knick-knacks, and other personal touches that made Harry feel a roar of jealousy. The pictures were all of him and his mother, and the rest of the things were delicate and expensive looking objects, such as a crystal set of the solar system that suspended in the air when released from it's box, the planets and moons moving in real time.

When Harry finally finished his essay, he finished rolling the joint and lit up, ignoring Malfoy's wide mouth.

"You want some?" Harry asked, exhaling through his window. "Have you had weed before?"

"Um, yes. And yes, this summer. I met some new people. Though I'm assuming what you have is muggle weed, and I've only had wizard's weed," Malfoy stated, taking the joint and placing it in his mouth like he'd been doing it since he was a child.

"Wizard's weed?" Harry asked, his interest growing.

"Yeah. Pretty much the same thing as this, just a little stronger. I've got a connect in Hogsmeade we can use," he said, passing it back to Harry.

"Cheers, mate. So, er, not to pry, but what brings you here?" Malfoy's face darkens, and Harry automatically pours him some orange juice and tequila from the pitcher he put in front of him.

"Thanks for this," he says, though grimaces as he takes a sip, "My dorm mates are being absolute gits. So are most of the boys in Slytherin so I decided to come up here and get away from them. They're not as bad as Weasel, but I'd rather reside somewhere I don't feel threatened."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, actually, they tossed out my trunk and told me to leave, but I wouldn't want to stay there anyway." Harry passed the joint back to Malfoy, noticing how soft his fingers are when they touch.

"Merlin. You would think they would be nicer to you after you saved everyone," Malfoy drawled.

Harry laughed, "Everyone's gotten over that bit of history. Now its back to gossip and idiocy."

Malfoy smirked at him, raising his glass in a mock toast, "To Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who's-Gay." Harry and Malfoy both tipped their cups back, refilling right after.

From there, the two kept chatting; Malfoy adding snarky remarks to Harry's observations of their classes, and Harry fielded questions about skateboarding. They both got tipsy, and conversation flowed easily. By the time they went to bed, Harry had relented into letting Draco (it somehow turned into Draco, not Malfoy) decorate the room. He wasn't sure if it was a wise decision, but it made the blonde cheer up tremendously, so he wasn't too worried.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

September 16. 9:44. "We learned this last year, mate. It's a miracle we're brewing it again. C'mon," Draco drawled, eyes following Harry's skateboard.

They were studying in their room, just like every night. In Slytherin, apparently, they had made many games and study tactics that Draco thought were important to keep up.

"I know, bloody hell. The last ingredient is…" Harry looked pleadingly at the blonde as he skated over. Draco was perched in a chair beside the ramps, books spread out around him.

"The last ingredient in a strengthening potion is powdered griffin claw, you imbecile." Harry rolled his eyes and took off again. Turns out Draco was a total nerd. He always did his homework ahead of time and spent weeknights studying unless Harry could convince him to skate or play some chess. He had rubbed off on Harry though. Since Draco was the only person he regularly interacted with, Harry often hunkered down and did work with him and indulged in the study games. Like now. They had a big review test coming up in potions so they were going over all possible recipes and theories.

"Give me the different uses of Ashwinder eggs, where to find them, how to gather them, and how they can change the consistencies of acidic potions," the blonde spouted off. Harry groaned and dramatically got off his board and lay on the ground.

"You need to do well, Potter, or Snape is gonna realize you're only succeeding because of that Prince character."

"I know, I know. Okay, Ashwinder eggs," Harry started explaining what he knew, but his thoughts were far from recitation. Instead, he was thinking of the complex blonde boy he lived with. They spent every morning and evening together, and shared most classes. Harry had Care of Magical Creatures, while Draco stuffed his schedule with Astronomy, Ancient Runes, and, most surprisingly, the third year Muggle Studies course.

Part of it was pure rebellion, but as Harry had answered questions for him when doing Muggle Studies homework, he could tell that it also simply fascinated Draco. The boy had also started to seek out other ways to go against his pure blooded upbringing. He had been "slumming it" all summer, hanging out with local people in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley that hadn't succeeded in the traditional sense of the word. That's where he had first smoked, first gotten drunk, and the first place he was kissed by a man. He decided to come back to Hogwarts with an open mind, saying that the war was over and he was free.

Apparently, he always sat with Hermione, Ginny, and other blood traitors, half bloods, and muggleborns at lunch. They had formed their own section at the end of Ravenclaw with Luna. Harry never ate in the Hall, however, so thought it was very strange to imagine. He also often tried using slang or improper language, usually saying things awkwardly and stiffly, but it was a start.

The boy returned from meal times with letters and packages from his mother at least twice a week. The packages were filled with candies, new school supplies, or fruits from their orchard. Draco had written home and asked for some decorations to put up in the Room of Requirement, or RoRi, as they called it now. Apparently, Narcissa was redecorating the manor, so it would be easy to persuade her to buy a few things for her son's quarters at school.

Draco never mentioned his father, however. Harry never brought him up, either, knowing that it was a sore spot. Everything else seemed to be open, however, since Draco rarely stopped chatting.

Somehow, the nonstop talking cheered Harry up in the evenings. He often went through the day, feeling lonely and distant, but when it was just the two of them doing homework, it felt soothing. Harry's anxiety tended to build throughout the school day, increasing sharply when he entered a packed classroom or was forced to interact with others. DADA and Charms were the worst. Both had a full class and both required partnering up in twos or threes almost daily. Draco always made sure they were together, however, which made it a bit easier.

The blonde had become protective over Harry, which bothered him a bit. He wasn't some delicate flower that needed guarding. Yet still, Draco shielded Harry's eyesight away from Ron and always made him walk on the side closest to the wall through the corridors. Just little things that made Draco feel better.

"Alright, Harry. Name ten common ingredients that go into anti-venoms and explain their characteristics in relation to each other," Draco spouted off. Harry noticed he was checking something off on a very long piece of parchment. This study session was going to be there longest yet. And Potions is first thing tomorrow morning, leaving less time to cram during the day.

But having a schedule has seemingly made Harry's anxiety retreat a bit. He liked knowing what was next and what to expect. He never knew what to expect at the Dursley's and felt he had to be on constant alert. Then he would go out and party to get rid of that constant on-edge feeling.

He still drank every night, but one drink instead of five. However, he indulged in weed a few times throughout the day. In fact, he started the day with it. Followed by a shower, reapplying his glamour, and breakfast with Draco. The blonde regularly had poached eggs, toast, and tea, while Harry had a bit of fruit and coffee. For a week after the first day of school, Harry would trot down to the dungeons for potions and healing balm. Snape rarely spoke, but was very professional and attentive. Harry deflected all questions, but let the man do the job according to the deal. Harry tried not to flinch at every touch, but Snape usually told him what he was going to do before he did it, which helped some.

Then he would make Harry drink a nutrition potion and tell him to get to class and eat more. Even now, every morning beside his coffee would be a small nutrition potion.

Then he would head to morning classes after grabbing a to go coffee from the kitchens on his way up the stairs. If he had free periods, he would return to RoRi and doze while smoking and reading for a few hours. Then he would grab some his lunch and dinner from the kitchens. He usually picked up an apple, a roll, and a banana to tide him over until breakfast. He would perch on one of the balconies and smoke and slowly eat. Then he attended afternoon classes, where he struggled to pay attention.

Finally, he would duck out of class and head outside to his favorite tree and climb up, resting his mind as he watched the landscape. Sometimes, on nicer days, students would wander close to the tree on their way to the Lake, and Harry would hop out and spend some time inside the Forbidden Forest. He never went very deep, but rather lay on the spongy grass and read his books and smoke, eating whatever was left from earlier.

Once it started getting dark, Harry would go back to RoRi to study with Draco, followed by skating or chess. Harry would have his drink as it got later, and they would smoke a joint or two together.

Occasionally, Pansy would be studying with Draco when Harry returned. She was always forcibly polite, but Harry kept his distance and would just skate around or work on an essay when she was there rather than make conversation.

Eventually, she would leave, and the boys would get in bed. Harry always cast silencing charms on his curtains, just in case. His decrease in alcohol lead to an increase in dreaming, unfortunately. Sometimes, when Draco was in the bathroom, he would chug a little more liquor in hopes of dampening the dreams. Sometimes it worked. When it didn't, and Harry would wake up drenched in sweat and tangled in sheets, he would creep out of bed. He would stuff his smokes and a joint in his pocket and go wander the halls, Marauders' Map in hand. He left the cloak behind most often since it had started making him feel claustrophobic.

He would return before Draco woke up and pretend he had slept the whole night through. For some reason, he wanted to blonde to think he was just fine.

"Potter, get it through your thick skull that a bezoar can not solve every problem," the blonde snapped, sending Harry back in to real time.

Harry rolled his eyes, but listened as Draco went on about the surprising quality of cherry juice in anti-venoms. Harry hopped off his skateboard and sat at the sofa, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. Draco moved next to him, propping his legs on the table and snagging Harry's cigarette for a drag.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

September 28. 6:04. Harry adjusted his weight against the tree branch as he lit his joint. He had started climbing this tree every night during dinner to avoid being dragged into the Great Hall by Draco. For lunch, Harry ducked out of class before Draco could accost him, retreating to one of the many useful balconies to smoke for an hour or two before going to the kitchens for his banana, apple, and roll. At dinner, Harry stalked off to this tree and waited for about two hours in order to get away from Draco's mothering.

Harry felt a little guilty about not eating much. Not so much because of Draco, but because during the first week of school, he had promised Snape he would eat more. It felt weird to feel guilty about not keeping a promise to the ex-Death Eater, or really any adult.

The man seemed different this year. He had seemed to ease up a little last year after the trials, but was still cutthroat in classes. He didn't hunt down rule-breakers, or take quite so many points. Then again, during the many trials Harry had to testify at or sit in on, it became apparent that Death Eaters were held under a lot of pain through their mark. And that they were tortured on a semi-frequent basis. No wonder they were all so angry all the time. And adding teenagers on top of it; well, Harry could kind of see why Snape was such an arse. This year, though, it seemed like he was just quietly stern, with a few special exceptions. Snape berated Ron at every turn, much to Draco's amusement. Most of the class got by with mild sneers because they were all good enough to be in NEWTS level anyway. Harry could only thank the Half-Blood Prince, previous owner of his potions text, for his passing grades.

Harry had bought a new book, but just switched the covers once he realized what a gem the used one was. Besides offering great instructions in brewing, it was full of theories and spells Harry had never heard of. In his free time, Harry often perused it. It got Draco off his back about homework at least.

Turns out the blonde is something of a perfectionist. He always does his homework the night it's assigned, and it is always clear, concise, and eloquent. His particular favorites are Potions and Astronomy, but also loved researching runes. Draco will only drink a bit at night, only after homework is done, and but will smoke a bit while they play chess. Harry really thinks Draco has some mild OCD, but Draco ignores his claims, saying just because he isn't a slob like Harry does not mean he's mental.

However, OCD or not, their room had quickly become a much cozier and elegant space. Along with Draco's knick-knacks that added an air of culture, he had also written home to his mother for tapestries and rugs. It turned out to be rather impressive having an enormous tapestry of the constellations hanging on the wall behind their beds, not to mention the delicate one featuring a weeping willow between their desks. Harry was not particularly fond of the small, framed, Black family tree, but at least this one didn't have Sirius' face burned off.

They also got some Persian rugs for the bedroom space and under the table and sofa. Draco asked RoRi for a long, low bookshelf which Draco used to separate the bedroom side from the study and lounge, as he liked to call them. The RoR is big enough the make it feel spacious, but still comfortable and cozy in a way. Draco says it uses wizardspace, a complicated formula for extending space while not disturbing the appearances of where it was, or the space around it.

Draco got clever one day and asked for two chalkboards. One was put on the wall between the "sitting area" and the ramps and was used to ask RoRi questions, such as "Can Hedwig get in here?" The answer, written in clean lines on the chalkboard, was no. But it was nice to find out limitations of the room regardless. The other chalkboard was on the door, and as people approached, it showed their names. Draco especially liked that idea of his, conceited prat.

 _Speak of the devil._ Harry exhales and swings his calves down from their resting branch as the blonde approaches.

"Skipping dinner again, Potter?"

"I got shit from the kitchen. Climb on up, Malfoy," Harry called down, waving the joint around. Draco rolled his eyes, but delicately climbed up the few branches to where Harry sat and leaned against the trunk.

"You wanna make a booze run tomorrow at Hogsmeade?"

"Sure, we could use some," Harry shrugged, handing the joint over.

"We could use a lot, actually. We're having a party tomorrow night, and quite a few people chipped in for firewhiskey donations. I can also arrange a meeting with my friend that grows weed, if you'd like."

"Yeah, okay, but who would come to a party thrown by us? We aren't exactly popular these days," Harry drawled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the tip of his wand.

"Do you ever listen to me?"

"Definitely not," Harry grinned at the scowling boy.

"I told you. At lunch and dinner, me and about ten other people crowd the Ravenclaw table because they're sick of me being pushed out of my seat at Slytherin and furious at the dumbest Weasley for forcing you to become a recluse," Draco huffed.

"I'm not a bloody recluse. I just don't like anyone," Harry rolled his eyes, pulling a mini bottle of vodka from his bag. He chugged it as the blonde eyed him.

"Why do you always have a stockpile of illegal substances in that bag of yours? You're gonna get caught and put in detention for ages," Draco reprimanded.

"No, I'm not. No one ever notices shit. I arrive stoned for just about every class, and not one professor has said anything this month," Harry scowled back. It was true. No one had said anything to him about his glossy eyes or the smell that emitted when he opened his bag. McGonagall had pulled him aside and told him that Snape had informed her where he was living and that, since Snape knew how to handle this better than her, Harry was to unofficially report to him about House related issues. Harry was not, however, a Slytherin, which McGonagall stated a few times too many.

She seemed to be implying that Snape was well versed in his situation because he had gone through it. Harry knew that his father had bullied the Potions Master for years, but couldn't help feeling that there was more to it.

Lupin had also expressed concern. The man practically fawned over Harry in class the first week, doling out compliments and advice, trying to act like the past year hadn't happened. He got the message, though, and now was overly respectful of Harry, always calling him "Mr. Potter," and handing out stern comments on techniques like McGonagall would. It was all quite annoying. Harry just wished he would ignore him. At least that makes sense.

"Right, right, Harry," Draco drawled, "But you're fine with having a party tomorrow night?

"Course I fuckin am. I love parties," Harry grinned. "I'm the king of parties. I've been waiting my whole life for this party."

"You're such a bloody prat," Draco huffed, taking another inhale of the joint.

"Good thing you're stuck with me," Harry grinned before grabbing the branch above him and dangling.

"Well, prat, I don't want to spend all night in a bloody tree, so let's go form our plan of attack for tomorrow."

Harry dropped the two yards to the ground, rolling at impact. He looked up at the blonde still in the tree and yelled, "What are you waiting for? We have to form our plan of attack!"

Draco huffed.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello all! I'm sorry I didn't upload last week. I was very sick and had to play catch up with school work afterwards. Please let me know any fun details you can think of for a teenage wizard party! Your reviews are great. Thanks! Enjoy!_

10:16. Step 1: Draco cast the undetectable extension charm on both his and Harry's bags. They got dressed for Hogsmeade; Harry in his usual black shirt, black jeans, black boots, but added a hoodie, while Draco dressed in his standard silk tee, fitted trousers, and blazer. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Harry chugged his nutritional potion and a few apple slices. Draco sipped tea and had eggs and toast. They headed down the stairs, bags on shoulders, and Harry's coffee in hand, stepping in time with each other. They reached the line for Hogsmeade, grateful that it wasn't long yet.

"Who's on duty," Harry asked as he rubbed his glasses with the fabric of his tee.

"We've got Sinastra, Sprout, bloody Lupin… and shit, Snape," Draco murmured, peering around the line.

"Fuck. Well at least Sinastra and Snape like you. Sprout thinks I'm alright, and Lupin wants to be my buddy."

They patiently waited for an open carriage, snagging one by themselves after Harry patted the thestral.

"I don't know why you like those animals so much. They creep me out," Draco remarked as they started moving.

"They're friendly and intelligent and do a lot of work for us. Just because they're a bad omen doesn't mean they're actually bad," Harry defended. He had been starting his Care of Magical Creatures yearlong project, and had chosen thestrals to study.

"Right, right. That doesn't mean I want one as a pet. Anyway," Draco said, moving in another direction, "Step one is complete."

Step 2: The boys loitered on the street for a bit, watching as more and more student's swarmed the stores. At 11:20, they entered Honeydukes.

"I think we need a sampler for our room," Draco said, shoving loads of Acid Pops into a shopping basket. Harry accidentally bumped into a group of fourth year Hufflepuffs.

"Yeah, alright," Harry replied as he grabbed a handful of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. They meandered throughout the store for a good time, adding Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, Ice Mice, Jelly Slugs, and a ton of individually wrapped chocolates.

Once they had gathered enough for a small army and made sure that many people had seen them, they checked out. Harry bought the sweets since Draco was buying the next stop's goods.

Step 3: At ten minutes til noon, Draco and Harry stepped into the crowded Three Broomsticks. They spotted seats two tables away from the professors' and sat. They wanted to be seen and accounted for by them. Lupin and Sprout were having a heated discussion about grindylows' effects on underwater gardens, while Snape and Sinastra sipped steaming mugs of something.

Draco orders them both cold butterbeers when Madame Rosmerta approaches. She returns soon after, placing their drinks on the old wooden table.

"I wish these had more alcohol in them," Harry mutters, taking a sip of the soothing drink.

"You wish everything had more alcohol in it," Draco scolded, picking up an abandoned _Prophet_ and scanning the front page.

"It looks good in here, you can barely tell that wall was burned down," Harry remarked, ignoring Draco and looking around. Most of the battle had taken place outside, but damages had come to many buildings in Hogsmeade. They had been repaired shortly after, or torn down and rebuilt in the bad cases.

"Centaurs gained back 60 acres of land in the Forest yesterday," Draco said. He always enjoyed reading the headlines to Harry at night while Harry skated.

"Good. Bloody Fudge should have never taken it from him."

"Oh, you're in here. Let's see. You are apparently forming an army of merpeople and centaurs in the Forest," Draco sniggered.

"No fuckin way, Draco. Are you serious?" Harry pressed his palms into his eyes. He hated when they made up ridiculous shit about him.

"Yep. They've got "insider sources" at Hogwarts saying that you've rejected the Wizarding world and are seeking to form alliances with creatures against the Ministry. Also, you're anti-social and may turn dark. And you're also insane."

"Sounds about right to me," a voice said behind Harry. The hairs on his neck stood up and he flinched very slightly, but he calmly twisted to see Ron, Seamus, and Pavarti.

"Good thing you're never right, Weasel," Draco said, making a shooing hand motion. "Now leave us be."

"Don't tell us what to do, Death Eater spawn," Seamus spat, pushing forward. Draco stood up from his chair in a practiced, lazy way, but Harry could tell he was tense from his clenched jaw.

"What are you going to do about Finnigan? From what I saw during battle, all you know how to do is scream and run. That doesn't exactly intimidate me," the blonde goaded. Harry watched as Finnigan's face turned red and he tightened his fists. Harry's heart rate went up.

"Draco, cool it, they're not worth it," Harry warned. Ron snickered and stepped even closer, making Harry's shoulders tense.

"Listen to your little boyfriend, Malfoy," Ron sneered, glowing as his friends laughed at the pathetic jab.

"Ya know, Weasel," Draco drawled, "I've heard some rumors about you and Finnigan here. Are you sure you don't like dick?"

Ron lunged at Draco, narrowly missing him as Draco sidestepped, and instead crashing into the chair and landing unpleasantly on his side. The bar grew silent at the commotion. Ron ignored it and sat up, looking like he was about to get up and try again when a voice rang out.

"Just what is going on here?"

The crowd sharply looked over to see Snape towering over them. Lupin and Sprout were flanking him, both with concerned looks on their faces. The bar had resumed speaking now that someone was taking care of the interruption, but eyes still lingered.

"Nothing, sir. Harry and I were just leaving," Draco scoffed, motioning to Harry and laying down a galleon.

Harry stood, avoiding the gazes of the people around him, and stepped around Ron, who was still pathetically on the floor, accidentally brushing against his arm.

"Don't touch me, faggot," he snarled at Harry.

Surprisingly, Lupin lunged forward, making Harry flinch heavily, suddenly expecting a blow to fall. When he opened his eyes a minute later, he was glad to see no one looking at him. Instead, most had their mouths open, staring at Snape. The man had his hand placed on Lupin's chest calmly, but firmly. Lupin was breathing heavily, but wasn't moving. There was a golden gleam to his eye that looked feral however, held back only by Snape's hand.

After another moment of tense silence, Sprout started in on Ron, her voice high and angry.

"Weasley, you and Finnigan come with me right now. We're going back to the castle to floo call your mother and having a chat with Professor McGonagall," she began, causing a flush to rise on Ron's face.

Draco was snickering and watching, but Harry felt like he couldn't breathe properly, his air being sucked in painfully. He caught Snape's eye and the man nodded towards the door. Harry grabbed Draco's elbow and shoved past the crowds, only stopping once they were outside.

Draco was still grinning madly and bumped shoulders with Harry, only then seeing that Harry was gulping in air and that his hands were shaking.

"Mate? Are you alright?" He pulled Harry off to a side alley where there were fewer eyes. Harry nodded, slowly feeling calmer as he breathed in.

"It just got a little tight in there," Harry shrugged, fumbling with his cigarette pack.

"It was also pretty brilliant," Draco said, eyeing Harry with worry. "The professors now know we were just being average students on a Hogsmeade outing and then were attacked. They'll assume we are laying low for the day. An added bonus is that Weasel got in trouble!"

Harry grinned a little at Draco. The boy was easily excitable and it was occasionally quite cute when it wasn't annoying. Harry felt himself coming back into his body as he smoked, eventually feeling a little calmer with Draco chatting in his ear.

"You ready?" Draco asked after some time.

Harry nodded.

Step 3: Draco pointed his wand at Harry, muttering something and giving a slight twirl of his wand. He stepped back and peered at Harry, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You don't look like you anymore," he sniggered. Harry reached up to find long hair and pulled it to his eyes.

"You made me a blonde?" He cried out.

"It's like a sandy blonde, not like mine or anything," Draco laughed. "And your eyes will be brown for the next ninety minutes, hopefully. Now pull that hair in front of your scar so we can move on."

Harry rolled his eyes, but pulled some hair forward and then placed his hood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets and following Draco back onto the main street. From there, they veered off, leaving the main street full of cheerful shops and heading towards the Hog's Head. That is, until Harry spotted a used clothes store with a leather jacket hanging in the window.

"Absolutely not."

"We have almost thirty minutes to kill before our meeting," Harry pleaded.

"Fine. But only for a moment."

The store turned out to specialize in not just typical wizarding attire, but muggle wear as well, probably from muggleborns at Hogwarts that outgrow their clothes. Draco watched as Harry perused the racks, letting a small grin grow on his pale face.

"Why do you need a leather jacket?"

"Sirius left me his mototcycle," Harry said, shoving the jacket on. He approached a mirror and twisted in front of it. It was a large on him, of course. He scowled, shrugging it off.

"I like this stuff, though," Draco called from across the store. He was holding a small pile of clothes, mostly shirts and jackets. Harry rifled through the mostly black pile. They were all sizes small or medium and seemed pretty cool, particularly a black denim button up and a black tee that said, "Never Mind the Bollocks" on top and "Sex Pistols" below, in pink.

"Good job, mate," Harry said enthusiastically.

"Not that hard to find what you like. Just have to look for black and small," Draco drawled, bringing a small pile of his own up to the counter. At Harry's questioning look, he said, "Just some sweaters. It's about to get cold."

"Used sweaters? On a Malfoy?"

"I look good in anything I wear," Draco sneered, pulling out a few sickles and tossing it to the cashier.

"I know, mate, just surprised. You're always so proper looking," Harry snickered, dragging out two galleons for his considerable pile.

"Yeah, well. It's hard to shake strict upbringing," Draco sighed and Harry immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry, mate, I just, um," Harry started.

"Shut it. I know. You don't have to explain. Now lets get out of here and we can chat about how I look gorgeous even in worn muggle clothes later."

Harry grinned again, picking up his bag and saying thanks to the cashier who looked very confused and slightly amused.

Step 4: They hurried down the street, ending up curving between two shabby looking buildings and almost colliding with two tall young men.

"Draco Malfoy," one greeted, holding out his hand serenely.

"A pleasure, again, Augustine," Draco said, taking the hand. "And nice to see you too, Wolder. This is Circinus."

Harry shook their hands too. Draco of course wanted to give him a fake name after a constellation.

"Alright, lads. Down to business. No one but the resident drunks should be around and they don't care two shites about illegal activity, but I'd rather not be caught by a professor. They didn't care for me much in my school days in the first place. So, gold, please."

Harry and Draco both forked over pre-loaded bags of gold. Augustine looked in both before nodding to his companion. Wolder pulled a very large jar packed to the brim with bright purple weed, flecked with gold. He cast a quick weighing charm, showing that, minus the weight of the jar, it came out to three ounces.

"Now, you two wait here and I'll be back with the rest for you," Augustine declared, taking one bag of gold and entering the Hog's Head tavern.

Harry stuffed the weed in his bag, giddy with excitement. He passed cigarettes to Wolder and Draco and they smoked in a tense silence until the other boy came back with two large bags.

"Pleasure doing business, old chap," he said, handing the bags over to Draco.

"Same, Augustine. I'll call upon you next time we need any of your supply." Draco handed Harry two handles of firewhiskey to put in his bag, while putting another two handles and a case of something called "Short Snout Ale," which had an image of a dragon curled around the lettering.

"Good to hear. Maybe you can stir up some business for me. I'm expanding soon, but need to make a proper profit. Just owl me. We'll be off," Augustine and Wolder disapparated, leaving Draco and Harry with two very full bags.

They smirked at each other and headed back towards the main street. Draco undid the charms on Harry, but he kept his hood up.

Step 5: Keeping to the sides of the street and keeping their heads down, the boys strolled through town drawing little attention to themselves. Eventually they turned off to the path towards the Shrieking Shack, stopping behind a tree to cover themselves with the invisibility cloak.

They crept towards the abandoned building, walking inside through the gaping hole that was blown through the side and never repaired.

Harry shrugged off the cloak then and returned it to his bag.

"Wonder where Lupin goes now?" He wondered, looking at the destruction in the shack. It was worse than ever. Exposure to the elements had made everything rotten. People seemed to have stolen everything that could stand, leaving just the most broken furniture behind.

"Hopefully far from me," Draco snorted. They walked past the destruction and dipped into the long tunnel back to Hogwarts. Harry smoked a cigarette as they clambered through, avoiding touching the sides of the tunnel. It looked like it had grown weak, and Harry didn't want to jeopardize it by accidentally causing a cave in.

"It's bloody disgusting down here," scowled Draco as bits of water dropped onto him.

"I told you it wasn't nice. We're almost done now, though. The end should be right ahead."

Harry dropped his cigarette and pulled out the invisibility trunk and map as they reached the base of the Whomping Willow. With an eased practice, Harry hit the knob and the boys crept out under the many branches.

They remained silent as they walked across the grounds under the cloak. Their steps were in harmony, making their flight smooth.

When they reached the castle, Harry opened up the map and looked through.

"We need to avoid McGonagall on the second floor. And Mrs. Norris on the fourth." They made their way up the staircases, careful to be silent on the floors being occupied. Mrs. Norris saw them, or smelt them, or just did that thing where she seemed like she knew exactly where they were.

They turned their wide eyes towards each other, and then simultaneously rushed up the next few flights of stairs, running around the corner until they reached their room. Once inside, they flopped on the sofa together and started cracking up with laughter. Draco was giggling nonstop, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder as he bent over, trying to regain breath. Harry could just smell the familiar scent of sage, aftershave, and lemon that seemed to surround the blonde.

After a moment, they sat back, grins still on their faces. Draco began pulling out their loot gleefully, like a child on Christmas. He asked RoRi for an ice box and placed all the liquor in there, then simply charmed the beer to keep cool.

Harry pulled out the big jar, grinning madly at the sight.

"What do you say, Potter? Roll one up, nap, fix the room up, dinner, shower?"

"Sounds good to me, Malfoy," Harry said, unscrewing the lid.

Ssssssssssssssssssss

 _He flinched. He flinched just when he saw his old best friend. He never flinched when he saw Malfoy when they were enemies, did he? What happened in the past year? Right. He died, fought the Dark Lord, was swarmed by reporters, went to trials, and then was returned to those abusive muggles._ Severus' mind was racing, but he still calmly guided Remus back to the professors' table after Weasley had been dragged away. As they sat, Aurora raised an eyebrow.

"What's been going on with those two? Malfoy is still in my class, and he seems different this year. But this is the first time I've seen Potter all year," she remarked, directing her question to Severus. Remus was deadly quiet and still, a sure sign of his anger. Severus just squeezed his hand under the table and turned to the Astronomy professor.

"Draco is having a hard time. While his decision to stay on the Light side has caused his father to reject him, it has garnered positive feedback from students here. Luckily, his father is in Azkaban for the forseeable future. But some Slytherins, mostly male, in his grade and above, have turned their backs to him.

It does not help that he came out this summer. As it is, only Pansy and Millicent will talk to him. He has befriended some Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, most notably, Potter."

"You know whats up with the Potter kid?"

"Ronald Weasley has turned against him, as well as has been influencing other students, mostly younger, to feel the same. Potter was kicked out of his dorm and seems to have been avoiding everyone except Draco since. I personally believe that Weasley is just being a petty, jealous boy. Potter received a lot of attention last year, so the red head assumes that Potter's sexuality is another ploy for notice. But, my full knowledge is stunted since they are not in my house."

"Merlin. Their year can never just get it together, can they?"

"Apparently not, Aurora," Severus snapped, causing her to roll her eyes. He squeezed Remus's hand again, seeing that he was calming down. The werewolf started chatting about what he has seen in his Defense classes and Severus tuned out.

Severus felt he had not been doing a good enough job watching Potter this past month. To be fair, his new first years have been complete disasters. There were more muggleborns than ever which had created some tensions from the older students. Currently, there was a quiet war in the common room between third years and first years.

Severus had been spending every evening working in there so no one else would be injured by a poorly thought hex. Not to mention his fourth years were battling the Ravenclaws. Usually the two houses got on quite well, but this group seemed to despise each other. Severus had at least one fourth year Ravenclaw a week in detention, and more Slytherins in private detention.

His confidence in Malfoy has improved. The boy, always social, had branched out and made friends with Granger and Lovegood of all people. But from there, it spread. Now the back quarter of the Ravenclaw table was filled with allies. Some sat there everyday, some just occasionally. But Draco was doing well. His grades were still up, he was more outspoken in classes, and he had remained on the Quidditch team despite the adversity presented.

Potter, however, had essentially disappeared. Severus only saw him in Potions class, quietly brewing next to Draco. And he was brewing exceptional potions this term, which was quite surprising and suspicious. Severus only hoped that Draco was helping.

The boy never came to the Great Hall for food. Severus stopped in the kitchens and asked Bickles, his favorite house elf, if Potter had been coming there for food. Bickles told him he came every day for coffee, fruit, and bread. Not exactly the meal a growing boy needs.

Remus has been positively annoying over Potter as well. Apparently, the young man had remained stoically immune to Remus' attempts at friendliness. Potter never acted out, never said a word out of turn. Remus thought it would be better if he screamed at him or hexed him. So now Remus is carefully polite and respectful, treating Harry like he would the average Ravenclaw instead of his favorite Gryffindor.

The glamours have not come off, which made Severus worry that the boy was still alarmingly thin. He sent a potion for him everyday, but had no way of knowing if it was going to use. If he did not eat properly, the potion would only have a weak affect.

Minerva was quite angry to hear that Severus knew where Potter was living before her. It came up at a staff meeting in the first week, with the Transfiguration professor sounding quite concerned. Since this has happened before, under varying circumstances, it was not alarming, especially since the boy had not missed any classes. Albus found the situation between Minerva and Severus quite entertaining, to the point that he assigned Potter's care over to him, since Severus would understand further than any other professor. He and Minerva protested, but Albus held his decision firmly. Severus regularly checks the dorm rooms of his Slytherins to ensure safety and a minimum of rule breaking, but has yet to check the Room of Requirement for Draco and Potter.

 _I'll do that tomorrow. I've been slacking off on those two, but now that the first years are doing better, I need to focus where I'm most needed._

Severus stood from the table and laid down some sickles, telling his partner he was going to make some purchases and he would be back soon.

 _Remus always needs more chocolate._


	9. Chapter 9

_Hello all! Thanks for continuing to read. I would love some feedback. This is a long one and I hope you enjoy.  
_

8:43. Harry had never understood charm work quite like this before. Decorating for a party took on a whole different understanding when Draco Malfoy was directing the spells. They had first pushed the beds together and into a corner for extra space, then laid out a poker table between the sofa and the ramps. Now, Draco was doing some clever charm work with decorations. Lots of bubbles were floating around, emitting a faint light. Hundreds of gold and silver streamers line the ceiling, flashing words like "Drink Up" and "Party On" intermittently. The poker table had self-shuffling cards, the golden cups littered about for people were charmed to keep cold. The record player Draco had brought from home was charmed to flip through a variety of different popular magical records, playing different Wizard pop-rock songs according to the tone of the room.

The two of them had cast gentle silencing spells in the hall outside and under RoRi, just in case. Just when you walked in the door, a giant banner said "Welcome to The Beginning."

"What's The Beginning?" Harry asked, setting up the drinks table.

"Ah, yes. Well, Hermione and I did some extra clever charms work. Look here," Draco handed him what looked like a large silver business card. On it, however, was an invitation:

 **THE BEGINNING**

 **Presented by Sir Draco Malfoy and Sir Harry Potter**

 **Attire: Casual Muggle Styles**

 **Date: 29 September, Curfew**

 **Bring Your Own Spirits**

 **Visit Ginny Weasley for Admittance Details**

 **Must be 5** **th** **Year or Older**

 **We Reserve the Right to Refuse Anyone**

 **Keep this Card for Future Use**

"We have a theme? Why keep the invitation?" Harry asked, eyeing the fancy card.

"It's the first party of the year! We should have a theme for each one, I think. And yes, when there is a new party planned, I can write over mine and send the information to the other cardholders. Hermione figured out that bit, but I got it so only people between the ages of 14 and 18 can read it. We can also deactivate specific ones, and mine will turn red if someone tries to rat us out."

"Merlin, that's genius," Harry said, astounded.

"I know I am," Draco smugly smiled, then turned around to finish laying out bowls of candy on every possible surface. They had also decided to put a few pitchers of water around, plus trays of finger sandwiches that the Kitchens would refill once empty.

Harry was in charge of the "Party Table," as Draco called it. It was their usual table in front of the sofa, but now Harry had organized the alcohol, mixers, and everlasting ice around it. They had pumpkin juice, elderberry juice, and FizzForever, something like seltzer but was extra bubbly. To the side, he was rolling a few joints so he wouldn't have to drunkenly roll them later.

"I'm getting in the shower," Draco said, finishing with the candy. Harry waved him off and packed a bowl for himself. The Wizard's weed was spectacular, honestly. It made him feel calm and excited and light and hyper. Draco came out shortly after with a towel sagging around his hips. Harry saw the sight every day, but it still managed to have his heart racing. The boy's slight abs, still wet, and the trail of hair that disappeared under the towel always made Harry's mouth just a little dry. Until he remembered.

 _Stop. Freak thoughts. Draco is your friend. He wouldn't want 're not nearly good enough._

He grabbed his own clothes, quickly, and went to shower. Water always brushes off the glamour, but by now Harry could reapply it in just a minute. There was only faint scarring left that could be visible, but Harry also knew Draco would freak out if he saw him so skinny, so Harry made sure to look a little healthy.

He showered and changed into his new Sex Pistols shirt, black skinny jeans, and shoved on a gold belt. Once he got back into the room, he pulled on his black Converse High tops.

Draco was preening in front of his mirror; dressed in a loose black and white striped cardigan he bought from the thrift shop and black skinny jeans he stole regularly from Harry. Under the cardigan, he had a white button down and his thin green tie and tiepin. A large gold watch rested on his wrist and his expensive dragon hide boots were completed his look.

"You need something else, Potter. It is a party," announced Draco as he inspected Harry.

"You're gonna get overheated, Malfoy. It is a party," Harry shot back.

"I honestly think you forget about magic sometimes. I put a cooling charm on the cardigan. I'll be perfectly comfortable and perfectly dressed all night," said Draco, putting his nose in the air. "Now, I think I have just the thing for you." Draco went and rummaged in one of the many boxes in his wardrobe. When he turned around, he had a thin gold chain dangling from his hands.

"Now," he said, stepping up to Harry and gently putting the chain over his head, Draco's hands soft on his chest when he adjusted it, "That looks better, don't you think?"

Harry found it hard to breathe, but nodded as he turned to the mirror. The boys rarely actually got that close to each other, Draco usually sensing that Harry preferred his space. A mix of panic and…something else had risen drastically in the ten seconds Draco had put the chain on Harry.

 _No. Not allowed._

"Right, then, let's have a bite to eat before our guests arrive," the blonde motioned towards their table and brought one of the trays of sandwiches with them.

Harry poured them firewhiskey and elderberry drinks, putting just a few drops of Fizz in there too, and then choked down two small cucumber sandwiches. Draco had four, and had just returned the tray to the right place when his watch went off.

"Ten minutes until curfew," he said, excitement in his voice.

"Want to try something new?" Harry asked, his heart racing just a bit. Draco grinned evilly and nodded. Harry pulled out the bag of cocaine and made two big lines and two little lines. He used a scrap of parchment to roll up and snorted his large lines.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Draco exclaimed, taking the parchment.

"It's cocaine, it's fun," Harry grinned. "Just close one nostril and inhale hard with the other one. Don't sneeze!"

Draco did as instructed, pinching his nose closed after he did both lines and dramatically gulping down his drink.

"That bloody burned!"

"It'll feel really good soon. You're gonna get hyper and, Merlin, even more talkative, and just feel really confident and fun," Harry explained, rolling a joint and lighting it with the tip of his wand.

Suddenly, a small noise came from the door. The chalkboard was positively filled with names.

Harry, wide eyed, turned to Draco. "I thought it was just a few people," he exclaimed.

"I did too," Draco laughed, standing and walking to the door. He opened it with a bow, and streams of people filed in, full of laughter and chatter. Draco pointed his wand at the record player, and it began.

A slight red headed girl bee lined to Harry, and before he could so much as say hello, his joint was stolen from his hand and he was immersed in a cloud of smoke.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, what's going on," he said, before he was suddenly wrapped in a hug, and then abruptly punched in the shoulder.

"Harry motherfucking Potter won't hang out anymore, you dumb prick," she exclaimed. People around them starting laughing and Harry's cheeks turned pink.

Luckily, Harry was saved from answering because Draco suddenly approached and steered him by the shoulder to the poker table. Draco hops on top of the felt table and makes Harry stand next to him. He points his wand at the record player, making the music stop suddenly.

"Good evening, everyone," he says loudly, gaining the attention of the room, "and welcome to The Beginning." Cheers go off around the room and Draco bows dramatically. "Yes, yes. I hope everyone is holding something to drink for this toast."

People raise their glasses, and Neville pushes a shot glass into Harry's hand.

"First of all, I hope you have all thanked Miss Ginny Weasley for organizing your escape into this lovely space we call RoRi. Mister Harry Potter and myself are very proud to host this function, and hope there are more to come. Think of this space as yours for the evening, and allow yourselves freedom from the typical bonds held against us," Draco said with a flourish as people clapped, "Now, we are here because we are intelligent! We are forward thinking! We have established new unities at Hogwarts beyond the boundaries of ignorance! And, my friends, old and new, we like to party! So without further ado, tip back those glasses and enjoy the pleasures of night!"

With that, Draco tapped his shot glass against Harry's and they both threw it back, fire burning their throats pleasantly. The whole crowd followed suit, and soon there was music back on and people were dancing, laughing, and chatting.

"Alright, Potter, I'm gonna lead in some poker. Do you want in?" Draco asked, hopping off the table elegantly.

"I think I'm going to join Ginny at the drinks table for a bit. There are a lot of people here, Draco. How did this happen?" Harry was still amazed at the forty or so people that showed up. A large majority were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but there was a fair amount of Gryffindors and it seemed most of the girl Slytherin upperclassmen were here as well.

"Ginny. She knows how to plan a party, mate. I certainly don't have as much credibility as that girl, but I'm working on gaining it," Draco laughed good naturedly. Soon, Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise Zabini surrounded him, surprisingly enough.

Harry headed back to the sofa and plopped down, putting a smoke in his mouth and topping off his shot glass. Ginny and Luna were waiting for him and they all tossed them back.

"Sorry I'm a prat, Gin," Harry started, but she quickly waved him off.

"Save it Harry. I'm not that mad. You just have to promise to hang out more often. We all sit at Ravenclaw, so start coming to some fucking meals. The person you really need to apologize to is Hermione."

Harry felt a familiar feeling of guilt burn in his chest and took a quick inhale on his cigarette. It helped a bit.

"So, um, what's going on these days?" He started awkwardly. Ginny laughed at him and slapped him on the back.

"Merlin. It's like you haven't even been here for a month. Let's see. We held Quidditch tryouts. Thanks for showing up, mate," she teased. "So there's a fourth year seeker that's alright, pretty sure Draco will crush him though. I'm chaser, and Ron is keeper. Also, I'm captain, somehow. I think McGonagall really just wanted a girl to run the team though. Plus you didn't show, and no one would put Ron in charge of anything."

"Er… how is he?" Harry asked tentatively. He wanted insight, or something to fuel anger instead of the lost, dreary feeling he gets when he thinks of Ron.

"I don't know. The only times I talk to him are in practice. He's a total arse. And won't believe that I like women, not boys," Ginny said easily, a smirk on her face.

"What? You're… you… what?"

"It's quite obvious, Harry," Luna said softly, untying her shoes for some reason. "I knew the first time I met her. I knew about you too, but there's clouds and wind and shnizzers around you."

"Shnizzers?" Ginny and Harry asked at the same time, desperately trying not to laugh.

"Of course. They rest in your ears and nostrils," Luna replied seriously. Ginny got a big grin on her face but nodded. Harry just shrugged and took another drag, scanning across the party for people he knew.

There were lots of familiar faces, but few people Harry considered himself friends with. Neville was strangely on the dance floor with Hannah Abbot, both smiling widely at each other. Dean was sipping a very large beer can and chatting with a 7th year Ravenclaw. Justin Finch-Fletchley seemed to be leading a roaring rendition of a Christmas Carol in the corner. Cho Chang, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith, and pretty much all of the former Dumbledore's Army, except Ron, Seamus, and Pavarti.

All of a sudden, groups of people kept crowding the table, urging Harry to take shots with them all. He drank with a bunch of Ginny's year mates that she brought over, the older Slytherin girls, who, oddly enough, insisted that Ginny and Luna join, a smattering of tipsy Ravenclaws, and finally a bunch of Hufflepuffs in his grade. Ernie Macmillan was eyeing him heavily as they raised their glasses, but Harry shrugged it off. _It's not like people haven't been staring since first year, anyway._

Finally, about two hours in, Hermione showed up. Harry hadn't seen her at all and assumed that she had decided not to come.

"Harry James Potter, I'm furious with you," she started in, her face tense as she looked him up and down. "And look at you, you're skin and bones because you are too stubborn to even go into the Great Hall. Well, I've had just about enough of your attitude this past month. You won't even make eye contact with me, you stupid boy!"

Harry was feeling quite tipsy, but he didn't fail to notice that people around them had gone quiet and were watching the high-pitched scolding. Luckily, Draco stepped in.

"Hermione, maybe not the time or place, eh?" He said charmingly, "Plus, you know I've been working on him and you know that the bloody red-headed menace isn't exactly welcoming."

 _They've been planning around me?_ Harry let out a bitter laugh, unfortunately making Hermione turn back to him with a glare. Harry decided it was time to put on his own charm.

"Hermione, I'm really sorry, but when I first got here everything just felt so screwed up. I mean, they kicked me out of the dorm on the first night. But, ya know, seeing all these people here tonight is making me feel better about it. I'll do better, okay?" He let the alcohol and weed guide his words, knowing it wasn't quite true.

Hermione bounded over immediately, tears in the corners of her eyes, and gave him a tight hug. He barely flinched, but thought he saw Draco's eyes narrow just a bit over Hermione's shoulder.

"Alright, alright, sappy Gryffindors, let's all make some drinks and smoke a little bit, okay?" Draco sneered. His tone was light, however, so Harry turned to the table again. He poured Hermione and himself large drinks and they cheered to themselves before cheering to the rest of the group.

Sssssssssssssssssssssss

1:47. "GO!" Neville yelled. Harry tipped back his can and chugged, gulping hard as he could. He finished one can and cracked open his second one. Right after he started on that one, he heard two more crack open and looked out of the corner of his eyes. Zabini and Ginny were right behind him. He finished his second can and took a deep inhale before his third. He heard spluttering and a muttered curse word, but didn't look around until, finally, he finished the last can. He crushed it in his hand and put his arms up, breathing heavily.

Cheers erupted around him and Draco took one arm and raised it with his, his delicate hand around Harry's wrist.

"That's right ladies and gentlemen, time to pay up, time to collect. First he defeated a dragon, now he defeated beer," Draco yelled out to the crowd. Soon enough, people were offering Draco sickles and knuts begrudgingly.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, mate," Harry laughed, slurring a little bit, "I'm glad you're making money off me."

"It'll all go to our party fund, don't worry, Potter," Draco laughed, patting him on the shoulder and steering him to the drinks section. They plopped down on the sofa, Draco a little close for comfort, but it also felt kind of safe.

Ginny, Neville, and Hermione sat down around them and they chatted and laughed and watched Luna twirl around on the dance floor. People kept coming by to chat and Harry was feeling confident and social, fueled by the drugs in his system. _So why not add a little more?_

Harry dug out his bag of Adderall, and removed two pills. Hermione immediately started talking about how bad it was for you, but Draco just rolled his eyes and asked Harry for some.

"Do you guys want any?"

"I will," Ginny agreed, but Neville shook his head no.

Harry ground them up and showed Ginny how to snort, inhaling two fat lines up his nose gleefully. Draco was next, and then Ginny, who cringed at the feeling at first, shaking her head and shoulders out.

"Merlin, that was a strange," she exclaimed, breathing in deeply. Harry just laughed and passed her a cup of water.

"You might get dehydrated," he shrugged, pouring a cup for himself and chugging it swiftly. He felt drunk, but the water and Adderall would balance him out like it always did.

"Potter, putting it down tonight," a voice commented coyly, causing Harry to pause. Draco, as usual, was much smoother.

"Evening Macmillan, Finch-Fletchley, enjoying yourselves?" The boys nodded and moved in to the table, bring their own shared bottle of firewhiskey.

Ernie sat on the arm of the sofa on Harry's side, occasionally leaning into him as the group changed the topic to Quidditch. Harry was feeling increasingly anxious with this boy casually touching him and crowding him. Ernie also kept looking at him, and it felt like he was burning a hole into the side of his head. Harry avoided all eye contact.

Finally, mercifully, Neville spoke up.

"Harry, what is all that wood stuff over there for?"

"Those are ramps for skateboarding," Harry laughed. All the purebloods looked at him strangely. "Like, ya know, on a board with wheels… Okay, I'll show you. Draco has gotten really good at transfiguring skateboards, so if you wanna join, ask him."

Harry eagerly got off the sofa, lit a cigarette, and grabbed his board from the corner, around those playing poker. He hopped on and cruised around, ending up in the halfpipe doing some basic tricks.

Soon Ginny, Draco, and Justin joined, followed by a whole crowd of others. Cushioning charms were placed as there were many falls. Harry grinned at his friends as they passed by, feeling happy and carefree on his board. He was drunk, he was high, and he was skateboarding.

An hour later, he was watching some people falling all over the place, too drunk to skate. Draco was providing commentary, sitting at the top of the half pipe with his legs dangling over the edge.

"Ms. Chang could not land that accidental piece of air she got, it seems. Hopefully does better on the Quidditch pitch this season. And oooh, there goes Neville again. And look here! Lovegood is going down the ramps on her stomach. She's a wild one she is."

Harry and Hermione were laughing wildly as they watched these shenanigans. Hermione had relaxed a little and split a very small joint with Harry and was a bit tipsy.

"Hermione! I need help!" Ginny called from the poker table where she had laid down a single knut, making the other players a little angry but they let her play anyway.

Hermione skipped off, and Harry refilled his drink and stood by the ramps again until he felt hands wrap around his waist. He froze, his heartrate boosted through the roof and his lungs stopped working.

One of the hands moved upwards and Harry saw it held a shot glass. Harry grabbed it and twisted from the person's arms.

"Easy there Harry," Ernie grinned, "I'm just saying hello." The boy, who was much broader than Harry, seemed very tipsy. He had a strange smile on his face that made Harry take a step back.

"Erm, hey there Ernie. You alright?" Harry said, tensing heavily as the boy took another step forward.

 _Stay calm. He's harmless. Breathe breathe breathe breathe freak breathe._

"I'm doing well, but I think I can do better," Ernie muttered taking another step forward.

"Oi! Potter! Come show these idiots how to skate!" Draco's voice called from the top of the half pipe.

"I'll see you later," Harry said to Ernie and hurried off to Draco, his heart pounding but his lungs working again.

Draco raised his cup in cheers, nodding seriously. Harry mouthed "thank you," and hopped on his board, narrowly avoiding a speeding Luna.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss

5:24. "Well mate, I think we had a very successful first party," Draco drawled, his words a little slow. They had been partying since 10, and everyone was fucked up. Harry was feeling okay because he stopped drinking two hours ago and was drinking coffee and water.

There were hammocks and sleeping bags all over the place, filled with drunk and snoozing teens. Currently, it was just Draco, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry still up, though they all seemed at risk of sleeping where they sat.

"Gin, Mione, take my bed. I'm going for a walk, okay? It's more comfortable anyway." Harry stood with them, letting Hermione hug him before they all crashed in bed.

Harry refilled his coffee, this time putting a large dose of firewhiskey in it. He rolled a quick joint and put it in his pack of cigarettes. He silently slipped through the door and trotted down the stairs, not fearing anyone seeing him. Even the professors that patrol are asleep by 5.

Harry steps out in the cold morning air, seeing the beginnings of the sunrise peaking out against the earth. He walks towards Hagrid's hut, lighting a cigarette and zigzagging down the path. Just past the hut, right on the edge of the Forest, is his destination. There is a pen for the mother thestrals there. They typically give birth in January, but Hagrid likes to give them a safe place to sleep during pregnancy, so there are three already there.

Harry pets them around the base of their leathery wings and gives them treats Hagrid left beside the fence, feeling himself calm down around these gentle animals.

After a while, he moves on, beginning a long walk around the Black Lake. In the shimmering waters, Harry makes out the Giant Squid, relaxing on the surface, and a small, moving shape just a bit closer. The grounds are crisp and offer a nice contrast to the night he just had full of fog and moving bodies.

Harry lights up his joint, and holds his coffee tightly. It's a cold day, and he wasn't wearing a jacket. He feels a bit dizzy, still kind of drunk (and getting more so as he sips his whiskey laced coffee), and stumbles over the occasional root as his mind wanders to the party last night. It had gone really well. Everyone had fun, no one died, no one even got hexed. Harry had felt the invincible feeling he got at parties again. Like he could do anything and say anything and he would be all right.

Harry meandered by the shore, daydreaming about the next party, when he felt himself walk into a strangely warm area. He settled onto the stony beach and flicked the end of his joint away and lit a cigarette. The Lake was beautiful in this crisp morning and Harry tried to focus on how relaxed it was, instead of the one thing troubling him. As usual, the bad won out.

 _I at least felt amazing until Ernie got so close._ That had been the turning point. Draco definitely helped, but something about that interaction really got under Harry's skin. _The feeling of being trapped. He was trapping me. I don't know why. He probably knows, he can probably tell…_ Harry's heart accelerated, lungs shutting down as he remembered how Vernon would trap him, pushing him against a wall and slapping him hard across his face. Harry would be trapped in his cupboard, or Dudley's second bedroom for days, hoping for and dreading footsteps. They either meant pain or relief. Images began to swirl in Harry's mind, his breathing coming faster and harder. His mouth was filled with a bitter taste that wasn't coffee, and his chest ached. His vision was unfocused. He couldn't hear the sound of the small waves against stone anymore.

 _Freak freak freak. Don't deserve space. Don't deserve friends. Freak._ Harry reached his hand to his shoulder, digging in his fingernails and dragging them. He felt blood, just like the last time in the garden shed. He felt blood all the time. It was soothing. It was alive. It was pain. It was familiar. He reached his other hand to dig in, when he heard something through his fog.

He shifted his eyes up, blinking rapidly, but unable to figure out where he was.

"Harry, reach down and pick up a stone. Can you do that for me?" Harry squinted, but the shape remained blurry. He moved his hand from his shoulder and searched on the ground for a smooth stone. _Wait. Where am I?_ His heart picked up again and he closed his eyes tightly.

"It's okay Harry. Just feel the stone. Listen to my voice. You're safe here. Here, take a sip of your drink. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out..."

Harry felt as if he was waking from a dream. He opened his eyes, breathing with the voice and staring at the stone he picked up. He sipped his coffee. He flexed his hands.

"Can you tell me who you are?"

"Harry," he whispered to the ground.

"Full name, please," the deep voice requested.

"Harry James Potter."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"Erm… Hogwarts?"

"Good. Can you tell me who I am?"

Harry looked up, squinting. His vision had cleared but his head hurt and the sun was making it worse. Once his eyes sharpened, the man came into focus.

There knelt Professor Snape, bare chested with just swimming trunks, a necklace, and a wand holster on. He was soaking wet, water dripping from his ponytail, and a slight scowl across his face and swirling black eyes. Harry quickly looked down again.

 _Shit._


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello everyone! This is a long chapter about Snape and Harry getting to know each other/both being awkward._

 _I have two questions for you: How do you feel about a little Snupin smut scene? AAAND who should Ginny have a crush on? Luna, Hermione, Pansy, ?_

 _I hope you enjoy reading!_

 _Previously:_

 _There knelt Professor Snape, bare chested with just swimming trunks, a necklace, and a wand holster on. He was soaking wet, water dripping from his ponytail, and a slight scowl across his face and swirling black eyes. Harry quickly looked down again._

 _Shit._

"Oh, um, sorry Professor. I'm sorry, I'll go now, I'm sorry," he stammered, attempting to stand, but becoming dizzy just when he lifted his head.

"Quiet, Mr. Potter. You're bleeding, but from an invisible scar. Please drop your glamours so I can heal you," the dark professor said quietly but seriously.

Harry dropped them, reluctantly. He was thin, he knew, but he hadn't looked in the mirror in weeks without the glamours on. He didn't dare look up to see his professor's face, knowing there would be a scowl on it. _I'm such a pathetic bother. He was just swimming and I came and ruined it for him. He doesn't care if I'm injured. He just has to check because he's a professor. He doesn't care. No one cares._

 _But… he did help after Ron attacked me. And hasn't told anyone. And keeps sending me nutrition potions…_

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter!" Harry looked up. "Please keep your attention focused on this moment. Keep sipping your drink; keep fumbling with the stone, whatever helps. Now, I need to heal you. I am going to use my wand to touch your skin on your shoulder and around your neck. Is that okay?"

Harry nodded, but tensed as the man shifted closer to Harry's side. He pulled out his wand and began muttering spells. Harry's attention however, was focused elsewhere. From the corner of his eye he could see what must have been very deep scars starting from the man's throat, out towards his shoulder. _Right, Nagini. Merlin, that looks painful. The scars are still so puffy and pink, not even white yet._

Beside the snake scars, covering the edges of the shoulder and down at least part of the man's side, was more discoloration. The skin was mottled between blinding white, dusky pink, and the regular paleness of the rest of him.

All of a sudden, he felt Snape's hand brush by his neck and Harry tensed further, breaking his study of the professor's scars. Snape stepped back then, assessing his work briefly. His face was blank and his body rigid. _Just like always, really._ Snape looked over Harry's head then and waved his wand, a pile of clothes levitating from somewhere into the man's hands. Snape turned and Harry gasped.

On Snape's back shoulder was a large tattoo of the moon, three quarters full. Harry only got a glimpse of it for a second because Snape had shrugged on a black tee, followed by a jumper. Harry averted his eyes, a guilty feeling bubbling up.

 _Snape's a private guy. He must be so angry that he was forced to deal with me while he was swimming. And now I've seen scars and a tattoo and it's all too strange. He must hate me._

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, "Please accompany me back to the castle." Then he turned on his heel and began the journey back around the lake. Harry scurried behind him, feeling dreadfully short. Snape's long strides were hard to keep up with, and Harry felt stupid for not keeping up. After about ten minutes of half-jogging, Harry stopped all together. _Fuck it._ Harry lit a cigarette, feeling better immediately.

"Did you realize it is quite rude, Mr. Potter," Snape said silkily, making Harry almost drop his cigarette in fear, "to not offer to share with your company?"

"Er… What?"

"Eloquent as always, Potter."

"Do you, um, wanna smoke?" Harry said cautiously, raising his cigarette pack towards the dark professor. _This has got to be a trick. Now I'm gonna have detention for the rest of the year._

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Snape plucked a cigarette from the pack, put it between his lips and… rubbed his hands together? Then he put a fingertip on the end of the smoke and it was immediately lit. _Bloody hell. How'd he do that?_

Snape turned and continued walking, however slowed down a bit so Harry had a chance of keeping up.

"Er, sir. Am I in trouble?" Harry asked the man's back.

"Now why would you be in trouble?" _Shit._

 _"_ I think I began walking before curfew was over? And, um, smoking?"

Snape did not respond for a moment, making the sense of dread rise in Harry's chest. _Detention forever. Fuck. I hate cleaning cauldrons._

 _"_ How about I take five points, and you accompany to my quarters for breakfast and a discussion?"

 _Is this a trick now? Only five points. McGonagall would take of loads for smoking, I'm sure. Breakfast? Discussion?_

"Okay, sir," Harry panted. They were now climbing one of the steeper hills, about half way there. _I wish I brought a bloody jacket. The wind is picking up. Stupid stupid stupid. Can't do anything right._

"Um, can I ask one more question, sir?" Harry hated how timid his voice got.

"I suppose you may, though I may not answer," Snape said, stopping and turning towards Harry and raising an eyebrow.

"Erm, how come you have a tattoo of a moon?" The man's eyes narrowed and Harry took a tentative step backwards.

"How about we play a question game instead? You ask, I answer, I ask, you answer. Honesty is vital. Would that be satisfactory?"

"Yes," Harry said tentatively. "Well, can I say I don't want to answer something?"

"Only if I do not believe that you are attempting to hide something that is causing you injury," Snape said sharply. "But yes, we can refuse questions."

"Okay, um, deal?"

"Deal," the professor said, looking at Harry intensely. He flicked his cigarette to the side, banished it, and pulled off his jumper. "Wear this, Potter. I don't want to have to make a visit to the hospital wing with you." He held out the black material to Harry while straightening his own tee shirt.

"No, its okay professor. You'll get cold," Harry mumbled. _Why is he being nice? Is he gonna tell people that I wore it? What's the catch?_

 _"_ Potter. I just did an hour of intense physical exercise. I am perfectly fine without it. You, however, are shaking. I also am concerned that you will simply fall over if your body temperature lowers any more. Take it," he commanded. Harry reached out and quickly pulled it over his head.

Warmth. It was so warm. And it smelled nice and safe. Like bay leaves and shrivelfigs and other potion ingredients Harry couldn't name.

"Come along then, Potter," Snape said softly, leading the way again. By the time they reached the doors, the sun was firmly up, but the grounds remained silent. It was almost spooky how desolate Hogwarts was between 3-7 AM on weekends.

Snape had said they would chat in his quarters, and Harry was slowly feeling dread fill his body. _What does he want? Is he going to yell at me? I didn't do what he wanted. He took time to take care of my pathetic arse and I still fucked up._

Harry began dragging his feet down the dungeon stairs, feeling the chill deepen as they moved farther into the heart of the castle. They passed the potions classroom, the Slytherin dormitory entrance, and Snape's office before stopping in front of a large tapestry. It was of a forest, and as they moved in front of it, a raven and a stag appeared. Snape twisted his wand through the air and waved Harry through. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped through the tapestry into a surprisingly cozy room.

The walls were full of books, first of all. There was a book on every available wall space, squeezed together haphazardly in some spaces and orderly on others. There was an inviting light brown leather sofa in front of a low table, flanked by two deep blue wing chairs, all crowded in front of the sofa. Underneath this furniture was a faded Persian rug. It was all placed in front of the fireplace, which lit as soon as Harry walked in. The windows showed only a greenish light. It took Harry a moment (and a fish) for him to realize they were under some part of the Lake.

"Not exactly the epitome of gloom most students expect, is it Potter?" Snape asked dryly, suddenly appearing behind him. Harry flinched. Snape moved ahead of Harry, stopping to light the candles on the small chandelier, and sat in one of the chairs, motioning Harry to the sofa.

Delicately, Harry sat on the edge of the seat, head down. Snape ignored him for the moment, instead tapping the table twice with his wand. Two large bowls of oatmeal, a bowl of berries, tea, and a cup of milk appeared on the table.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I will go easy on you this morning, but I expect that glass of milk, and half your oatmeal to be completed before you go. I will continue to supply you with a nutrition potion as well," Snape commented casually, as if he wasn't forcing Harry to eat in front of him. The professor picked up his spoon and ladled strawberries and blueberries to the top of his oatmeal before taking a bite.

Harry's stomach turned, but under Snape's watchful eyes, he picked up the milk and had a few sips. It was cold and refreshing, washing through Harry mercifully after his night of heavy drinking and smoking.

That sat in silence for a few moments until Harry finally started eating small spoonfuls of oatmeal. After his third very timid bite, Snape started speaking.

"I imagine someone has told you about the prank Black attempted on me at Lupin's expense?"

Harry nodded. Lupin had explained it to him during third year. It was a rather foul trick that had tainted the joy of having a godfather somewhat. _There are always bullies. Sirius had been one, Ron is one, Snape usually is one, and Draco was the worst for four years. It's not new anymore._

"Well, that initially inspired a deep fear of werewolves, but more importantly, it showed me that I was vapid, weak, and unprepared for realities outside my areas of comfort. I was forced to keep this dangerous news a secret, and forced to owe a life debt to my greatest enemy." At this, Snape nodded to Harry a bit stiffly. _Right. Broomstick, first year. Cheers, mate._

"When I turned 19, after already receiving my Dark Mark and eventually regretting it, I decided to get the moon. Too many times had I been unprepared and weak in the face of dilemmas. Too many times had I chosen the easy way to power and mistaken strength. The moon reminds me of my mistakes and my debts, made due to my initial fears of being seen as, to sum it up in a word, Snivellus."

 _Holy shit. Merlin. Did he really just say all that to me? What the bloody fuck? Why did he just tell me about his…emotions. Snape has emotions. That are apparently quite life altering that he just shared with me. Harry Potter. Bane of his existence. What the fuck is going on?_

"Potter," sneered Snape at Harry, who's mouth was hanging open. "Eat more oatmeal."

Harry stuffed a few more bites in his mouth and swallowed more milk.

"Can I ask a follow up?"

Snape eyed him, but nodded.

"Are you still afraid of werewolves? Does it upset you that Remus works here again?" Snape's lip twitched upwards for just a moment. Harry decided it was just another sneer.

"I am better. I have worked with many werewolves since joining the Order, primarily Lupin. He allowed me to study him in order to make improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion. I am not comfortable with any other wolf, however, probably due to numerous interactions with Fenrir Greyback. He is the reality of my fears, very different from Lupin. The Board of Governors approved Lupin as a professor so long as the Headmaster and myself ensure he takes his potion and remains outside of the castle during the full moon. Conveniently, the tattoo changes with the real moon; therefore I can never forget when it is."

"It's like a magical tattoo? It can change and stuff? And its not, ya know, evil?"

Snape did that weird lip thing again, but nodded. _Holy shit. I need one, like now._

"My turn, Mr. Potter. I was very honest and open, I hope you remember to do the same," Snape warned in his low, cool voice that demands attention. Harry snapped out of his thoughts of tattoo designs, feeling anxiety come back up. _When did it go down? Listening to Snape was kinda cool, but damn, that doesn't mean I'm safe._ Harry nodded to his professor, wringing his hands a bit.

"I have asked this before, but, Mr. Potter, what are you on? Or more accurately, what were you on last night?"

 _That's not so bad. He already kinda knows I get fucked up a lot. Or at least knows more than any other adult._

 _"_ Er, lets see. A lot of whiskey and beer was involved. A bit of weed. Some coke and Adderall were thrown in as well," Harry muttered, avoiding eye contact. For some reason he could feel that Snape would not dock points or suspend him for this.

"Adderall?"

"A muggle pharmo. Kinda like cocaine. Makes you hyper. Er, sir."

"So you're telling me you had large quantities of both uppers and downers and yet your heart still works?" _What the fuck is that tone? Sounds like bloody Mrs. Weasley when she wants you to know you're stupid. Merlin. Just yell at me like a regular guy and get it over with._

"Yes, sir. But, really, it's fine. Its just, ya know, for parties," Harry said quietly.

"Yes, of course. That's why you smell like marijuana every day in class. Not to mention the occasional days I smell alcohol on you. Trust me, drinking and brewing is not a good combination." Snape motioned towards the oatmeal again, and Harry hurriedly bent his head and started spooning in a few more bites. He was getting full, but still had a ways to go. The stress of the situation was making his stomach act up more than usual though.

"Other professors are too old or too ignorant of muggle lives to see certain things, Potter. I will not get you in trouble for now, but if it becomes a deeper problem, I will have to report it."

 _Shit. Okay, well. He's not doing anything now. Just gotta learn to hide it better. Stupid stupid stupid. And what does he mean? How would a bloody Death Eater know shit about muggles? Ex-Death Eater. Whatever. I forget he's not old too. He seems so tired. And when he's dressed in all those heavy black cloaks, he looks bigger and more distant. He looks kinda 36 right now. The same age my parents would be. Weird. Wonder if I can see Mum again. I wonder if there is wizard acid or if I just have to die. Maybe if I go into a coma? Maybe…_

 _"_ Mr. Potter, please come back to the land of the living. It is your turn," Snape stated sternly, drawing Harry back into the conversation.

"Er, right. Um," _Shit. I don't know. What am I supposed to ask him? "_ What were your parents like?"

"Pass. Ask again," Snape said, voice emotionless and cutting. _Oh fuck. Shit. He seems upset, or like, not as non-angry as before. Alright. Balance._

"Why do you swim in the mornings? Do you do it every morning? Even in winter?"

Snape nodded in approval, having a sip of tea before answering.

"I was asked to choose a physical activity to do by my Mind Healer. I chose something that needed endurance, and swimming was what made me feel better. Before the Battle, I would run a few miles each morning, but we decided I should do something different, something unrelated to the war. Swimming is soothing. It makes me slightly less volatile and offers a place to relieve my stress.

"And I do it every morning except Fridays and Saturdays. Did you not notice the rather strong heating charm in place where you were sitting, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, that's what it was," Harry bent his head in embarrassment.

"Indeed. I place an intensive isolated heating charm throughout the top five feet of the lake in a straight line. In winter I also have to place barriers so ice won't float in my path."

"Mind Healer?"

"Mandated after the trials. Many people were required. It is quite a mystery that you were not," Snape said slyly.

"I was never on trial?"

"Neither were many people who were strongly advised to seek a Mind Healer. It seems people believed you to be immune to what happened since you are the hero," a bit of snark edged into his voice and Harry gripped his hands together tightly.

"I'm not immune and I'm not a hero, sir," Harry said lowly, biting out the words, "But I would appreciate it if we could move on."

Snape gave him one of those deep appraising looks, making Harry curl on himself even tighter.

"Fine. What do you eat every day Mr. Potter?"

"Pass," Harry snarled.

"This is a case of endangerment. You do not get to pass," Snape replied coldly and deadly serious.

"What happens if I don't answer," Harry asked, tension making his shoulders shake.

"I will have to inform Poppy that you need help at meals. She will likely force you to eat every meal with her in the infirmary."

Harry sat quietly for a moment, anger swirling in his body. _Fucking Slytherin prat. Pomfrey will tell Dumbledore._

"If you don't like my answer, who will you tell then?"

"No one," Snape said swiftly. "I will only tell if you begin to worsen. I give you my word."

"Fine," Harry grated out, everything in him telling him to run. "I eat a bit of fruit and coffee with Draco in RoRi. I grab some fruit and a roll, or just a sandwich to last the rest of the day during lunch."

Snape stilled. His dark eyes widened just slightly, but it was enough for Harry to duck his head again.

"You will start eating lunch and dinner in the Great Hall," he said sternly.

"No! I won't! I hate going in there. Everyone stares and is too loud and.. and … just… I would rather bloody eat in here than going there. Listen, I'll just start eating more okay? You can check with the elves and everything. I promise," Harry was feeling desperate. He felt unraveled. He felt fear trickling down into his body at the idea of eating around bloody Ron and Seamus and everyone's eyes every day. Snape, however, had laced his hands together, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "Er, sir?"

"You will eat one meal in the Great Hall and one meal with me, here. Every day. We do not have to speak or even look at each other if you do not wish to. But you must come here and eat. Either lunch or dinner will work for me."

 _What? Did I just do that? No. Noo. Bloody hell. How do I always make things worse. Just… at least he's not going to Pomfrey or Dumbledore. But, why? What does he gain from this? This doesn't seem cunning, it just seems like a huge bother. Now I'll just be another burden on someone else._

"Er, dinner, sir," Harry said to his hands, not trusting himself to open his mouth again.

"That is satisfactory. I will make arrangements and you can meet down here at 6, sharp. I will set it so the tapestry recognizes you. Now," Snape said, continuing with his impersonal tone, "I believe it is your turn."

 _My turn. Right. What the fuck do I ask him that he won't pass on?_ Snape lifted his cup of tea to his lips, providing Harry with his question.

"Does your Dark Mark still hurt ever?" _Oh wait. Shit. That does seem personal now that I said it out loud. Aaand he's raising his eyebrow, a light sneer, right. Good job Harry._

"No," Snape finally said after a moment of Harry's panicking, "The last time it hurt was when he finally died. Do you not remember how all those bearing the Mark reacted?"

Harry tried to think back, but honestly all he could remember was a delirious exhaustion from the last hours of battle. Voldemort crumbled, and then…Harry remembers Dumbledore placing his hand on his shoulder and Hermione and Ron and others swarming them. Even that was blurry though.

"No, sir, sorry. It's a bit hazy," Harry admitted.

"It is to be expected. Well, I assume you know that he had control over our Marks; he could call us through them, typically through pain. It is similar to Cruciatus, but located only inside the Mark. When he died, every Death Eater's Mark burned intensely, and only slowly faded away. I, of course, barely remember this as well due to my injuries, but it was quite fierce. But since then, no, it has not harmed me, just like I assume your scar will not harm you."

Harry instinctively flattened his hair over his scar. That all made sense according to the testimonies he had heard. Harry nodded, ignoring eye contact.  
"My turn again. Eat something first, Potter, you need it."

Harry reluctantly picked up the spoon and had a few bites of the now lukewarm oatmeal. His stomach turned, but he had a few more sips of milk, which helped soften it.

"Do you have nightmares?" Snape said, lacing his fingers together on the table.

"Why would you think that?" Harry snapped, his patience wearing thin. _This man is bloody omniscient. Why is he asking all these kinds of questions? He already knows the answers._

"Because, Mr. Potter, when you removed your glamours, I noticed the dark circles under your eyes. Which is probably a mix of sleepless nights and a lack of proper nutrition. So, nightmares? Insomnia?"

Harry curled his fingers into his hands, anger pulsing through him. But, after a moment of that pure, sweet anger, came exhaustion. _He's right. I'm a disaster. But of course I have nightmares. So many people died. I died. Of course he thinks I have nightmares… they're just… not like he thinks they are._ Harry had been having weird dreams since the end of last year. Right after the Battle he dreamt of the dead almost every night. Now he dreamt of falling, of suffocating, of drowning every night. He dreamt of broken bones, of large waves, of mercy.

"Some unsettling dreams, sir. I wouldn't consider them nightmares. But I'm fine, ya know. Lots of work this year, and such."

"Yes, and when you wake up from these dreams you do schoolwork, not wander around the castle, of course?"

 _Can't catch a fucking break._

"Walking helps me calm down," Harry said through gritted teeth, shoulders tense. _If he takes points for something he didn't stop in the act, I will walk out right now._

Snape stood, startling Harry. The man stood and perused a bookshelf for a moment before plucking one out and handing it to Harry.

It was a thick, well-worn book, red and soft from touch. The title read _Warding with Runes: Safety in Symbols_.

"I know you chose Divination instead of Runes or Arithmancy, but you should look through there. It is very informative if you can understand your own needs," Snape said stiffly.

 _This is probably the weirdest weekend of the past few years. I have a party with Draco Malfoy in the room we share because we are both gay outcasts, and then Snape helps me with a panic attack and gives me a book about protection._

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, flipping through the introduction. "But just so you know, Dumbledore suggested Divination because it would give me more time to find Horcruxes with him."

"Yes, well, the Headmaster and I have different ideas on what constitutes a pastime for children," Snape said coldly. "You may read this book in here, and take notes, but it should not leave my quarters as it is very old and very valuable. Try to get an idea of the total book for the next hour or so, then tomorrow you can begin investigating what, if any, runes would be helpful for you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, something strange expanding in his chest. _Don't get your hopes up; this is Snape after all. He will destroy you tomorrow because you relaxed today. But today he decided to help you. So use it now while you have it._

For the next twenty minutes, Harry eagerly flipped through the large book, trying to soak in as much information as possible. But, eventually, he started to fade into the warm leather sofa, his eyelids getting heavy, and the fire casting such a gentle light that he couldn't help but doze off.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssss

Severus looked up from his grading every few minutes to make sure the boy was reading, then sleeping. _Probably stayed up all night, the irresponsible teenager._ Yet, Severus could feel his worry about the boy in his fingertips. He was worse. He doesn't eat. He drinks and smokes and does strange drugs. He sleeps poorly. He has panic attacks. And he only speaks to Draco, his former enemy, just because they are both supposed outsiders.

 _Then again, if there was a party last night, I'm sure they are doing just fine in the social arena again._

Still. There seemed to be some great shift in the Potter boy from the rest of his school years. His relatives surely have been abusing him for some time, so why would he all of a sudden be more likely to flinch at every motion? _He died. He was grown to die and now has lost all sense of what the purpose of living is in the first place. The Dark Lord is gone but he is still here. He celebrated, he mourned, and now what is he supposed to do?_

Severus felt uneasy. His arm twitched. His thoughts, free now that he was essentially alone, were racing. It was one thing to help the occasional Slytherin abuse case, another thing entirely to deal with the lost Boy-Who-Lived. But he felt he had to. Something inside him that Severus often attributed to his Slytherin side, ambition, perhaps, called to him to act. Not ambition to impress others, but ambition to prove to himself, once again, that he has integrity, that he has changed. _Power from others is lost or abused, but power within stays true._

Potter. The small 16 year old would be accompanying him for dinner every night. _But, more importantly, how do I make the boy talk? Trust? Give him an idea of life past 16, past Hogwarts? How am I, snarky Slytherin git, supposed to get the Gryffindor golden boy to truly live when I hadn't for so many years?_

Then, his arm twitched. And again. Until it was doing the spasmodic dance it has taken to doing the past year. Severus bowed his hand and attempted to systematically tense and relax his arm and hand muscles. It did not help much. Luckily, this episode was not looking as bad as others. They came and went, appearing almost weekly, but sometimes will be triggered by certain actions. Actions such as rage fueled rants. And cigarettes.

Severus sighed and went back to grading, attempting to ignore his arm by slashing red across pages of inane essays on mugwort properties from second years that can barely spell their own names. There was peace for about fifteen minutes.

"All I'm saying, Albus, is that there is room for a whole underwater garden," Remus practically shouted as he stepped through the tapestry into the room.

Severus shot up and shook his head silently, causing Remus and the Headmaster to stop in alarm. Severus rolled his eyes and nodded towards the sleeping teen on the sofa. Eyebrows went up.

Severus scowled and waved them towards the tiny kitchen, pulling the leather tie from his hair as he followed. Once he shut the door firmly behind them, he held up his hand to stop the barrage of questions sure to start.

"I found him this morning after swimming. He looked like he was having a…difficult time. I informed him that he could lose many points or come eat breakfast with me and then perform a detention. He chose detention but fell asleep. It seems as if he was up all night," Severus said stiffly, hair partially obscuring his face.

"Ah, that is kind of you Severus," Albus smiled widely, eyes twinkling.

Severus sneered, anger channeling through his body. _Albus already knows what is going on. Manipulative old man. I just wonder how much he knows. Regardless, I can tell he will let me do what I want now. He has not interfered much since the Battle. Even he can take a few hints. Rather aggressive hints._

"Is he okay?" Remus asked, concern etched over his face.

"He will be," Severus said shortly, not looking into his partner's eyes. Of course, that only made Remus more suspicious. He could feel the werewolf scanning his body, making a small _tsk tsk_ sound when he saw the shaking hand.

"Love, have you not taken your potion for it?"

"Not now, Remus," Severus spat, eyeing the Headmaster angrily. "What do you think of the boy, Albus?"

Remus frowned, leaving the room, causing Severus to feel guilt well up. But the other man knew he did not like his weaknesses flaunted, especially to people he could not trust anymore.

"I think that Harry needs help and that I can not help right now. You, therefore, are the logical choice. My turn has passed, Severus, and I failed greatly in some aspects. You may do what you please. You have my full support," Dumbledore said, eyes shining with tears. Severus snorted.

 _Tears will not weaken me, old man. You failed. You failed Potter. You bloody sacrificed a fifteen-year-old boy. Now that he survived, you do not know what to do with him. But you expect me to fix it right up. Pathetic, lowly, sinner, Severus Snape to the rescue._

 _I will do better by the boy than you ever have. And not just to spite you, either, because there is no real reward in that, either._

Severus held the Headmaster's gaze through his thoughts, knowing the man could decipher them through his eyes. Then he swung his hair forward and turned sideways, not wanting to see the few tears trickle down the cracked and aged face.

Remus stepped back in, silently closing the door. He faced Severus, holding out a small vial of a blue potion.

"Stop your whinging and take it," he said sharply, forcing it into Severus's hand. Then, gentle as could be, Remus tucked some of the lank black hair behind his ear and kissed the corner of Severus's mouth.

 _Honey. Honey, wildflowers, and cinnamon._ Severus inhaled his lover's scent deeply and felt his muscles relax. He squeezed Remus's hand briefly, an apology, and stepped to the small stove to put the kettle on. He pulled out one mug and his favorite Earl Grey and honey.

Remus and Albus chatted in calm voices for the few minutes until the water was boiling. Severus poured his tea and chugged the blue vial, feeling relief wash over his spasmodic arm. Remus half smiled, and then led Albus out of the kitchen and back to the hallway.

Severus collapsed into his chair, mug in hand, running the other hand through his hair.

 _I will have to explain bits and pieces to Remus. After all, I won't be having dinner with him for a while. I just have to convince him to not get involved. Which will be practically impossible._

A noise stirred Severus from his musings. Potter was curling up tightly on the sofa, gasps coming from his mouth like he was struggling to breathe.

 _Merlin. What am I supposed to do now?_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello! Thank you guys so much for the reviews. You are giving me so much inspiration and help! Due to one reviewer (lookin at you, ToughGirlsRuleTheWorld) I was wondering if you all had suggestions for party nicknames for the main crew? I know my friends when I was sixteen had them (mine was Weed because my name is Reid...). Anyway, I thought it would be fun!_

 _This is a lighter chapter! There is a sex scene between Snape and Lupin, so apologies to those who don't like. I've never written a sex scene, so sorry if its not that good. Please keep reviewing and telling me what I can do better/fun suggestions!_

 _Harry was running as fast as his feet could carry him, leaping into the air with the heavy winds. It smelled like salt and clay. He kept running, seaside oats grazing his legs gently, telling him to go faster, go faster. His heart was beating wildly, adrenaline pumping. He knew someone was chasing him._

 _He was forced to stop when he reached the edge of a cliff. He looked over it, heart dropping. It was a long fall into crashing waves. The side was steep and smooth, so he couldn't even climb down. The wind all of a sudden became clearer, turning into voices. He turned around, spotting Draco a few yards away._

 _"Draco! There's someone coming! We gotta get out of here!" Harry called, his voice mingling with the winds. But Draco didn't hear him. More people were walking towards the cliff. Fred and George, Ginny, Hermione, Dean, Luna, even Ron. But no one could hear his screams._

 _Until all of a sudden, Ron turned towards him and gave him a little smirk and wave. Harry took a step forward, only to find out there was no ground there anymore._

 _He was falling, hard, barely having a moment to gulp air before he plunged into the frigid waters. It was all black around him and his clothes were dragging him down, but Harry kicked towards the direction he thought was up. His arms struggled against the sweep of water. Eventually, though he could see light not far from him, he inhaled the icy salt water._

 _Gagging, desperate, he couldn't stop breathing it in. His lungs were screaming in pain and his head was spinning. He kicked, gaining little momentum, but still closer to the light of the day._

 _A shadow passed over the water, scaring Harry more, but this time he kicked and kicked, trying to break surface to breathe. But the shadow swooped downward, holding him by the shoulders just under the surface. Harry let his body relax, knowing he could never make it now. He closed his eyes and breathed in water, body curling from the intake._

"HARRY POTTER, wake up." Harry snapped up, eyes glazed but looking around, heart still thundering.

He met Snape's eyes. There was a flash of relief behind the stone cold walls perpetually erected there.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm sorry I disturbed you. It won't happen again. I'm sorry," Harry rambled, his breath coming in short gasps.

"It is fine, Potter. Now stop talking and take a few deep breaths," Snape scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and letting hair fall in his face. Harry nodded and tried to focus on his lungs, slowly unclenching his fists.

"I am really sorry," Harry whispered, not looking up. He could feel heat in his cheeks.

"Mr. Potter, desist with the apologies. All you have done is given me a break from grading. Now, sit up, I wish to speak to you," Snape sneered, waving his hand casually as if the offense was nothing.

 _What the fuck? I just had a bloody nightmare on my professor's sofa. After he gave me breakfast because he thinks I'm completely mental. Merlin. Kill me now._

"Er, okay sir," Harry said feebly, twisting his hands in his lap.

"As Professor McGonagall has told you, your care while at Hogwarts has been transferred to me for a variety of reasons. The plan we briefly discussed earlier will be followed through with, carefully and considerately. There are a few rules that must be followed," Snape said crisply, folding his hands in his lap. Harry nodded, resigned to his fate.

"First, you must attend lunch in the Great Hall the entire school week. Weekends are up to you, still, since I know Hogsmeade appeals far more than the castle at times."

The man's fingers gracefully grasped his quill from the table and began twirling it around, the motion soothing Harry.

"Second, Mr. Potter, you are to have dinner here with me. Like I said, we do not have to speak to each other, but I will ensure that you have dinner. As for the third rule, you must take off your glamours once you enter my rooms, provided no one else is here."

"I don't want to take off my glamours," he ground out, clenching his fists.

"You will have to," Snape said, straightening his back, "It is for your own safety, Potter. If you have not glanced in a mirror recently, be glad. You are simply bones and gaunt eyes. You will remove your glamours so I can check on you. If you prove to be improving, I will not force you to. Until then," Snape waved the quill in his hand halfheartedly, as if to say he has no choice.

"If I don't take them off?" Harry asked, seething.

"I will remove them for you," Snape snapped.

Harry grimaced. That was worse, somehow. "Fine. What else?"

"Watch your tone, Mr. Potter," Snape remarked coolly, "The final condition is that when you arrive here, you must be sober. You are a teenager and I have no interest in monitoring your drug intake unless it becomes an obstacle between you and your grades. But while here, you are not allowed to be on any substance."

"What happens if I break a rule," Harry asked.

 _He's in charge of me now. He could hurt me if I fuck up. He could make me go back to Gryffindor. Or expel me. Then I'd have to return to the Dursley's. This is not good. Fuck._

 _"_ If you break a rule, you will have detention. Probably involving cleaning cauldrons or preparing potions ingredients. If it is recurrent, then you will stand in the corner like a five year old. But Mr. Potter," Snape started softly, causing Harry to look up to the man's face, "I will not harm you. Do not fret about that. I doubt you will like me after detentions, but you will not be harmed. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded, a little bewildered. _It's just because he knows you're pathetic. So pathetic that he won't even really punish you. Or he's lying. When I do something wrong, and I always do, he'll realize that he will have to hit me._

"While you are here, I want you to think of this space as somewhere you are safe. You can do homework here, you can nap here, whatever you like as long as you are quiet and respectful of my things. There is the occasional visitor. Lupin and McGonagall like to stop by on occasion, but for the most part it will be clear of people. Draco also knows of it and visits from time to time. But, of course, you can come and eat dinner and leave immediately if you so desire. It is up to you," Snape finished, twirling the quill about his fingers a bit more.

"Er, okay sir. Thank you," Harry mumbled. He didn't know what to say. This all seemed like too much. Like in a minute Snape was going to laugh at him for believing that he wanted Harry to feel comfortable.

"Also, Potter, if you wish to swim with me in the mornings, you are welcome to do so once you put on some weight," the man added carelessly.

"Really?" Harry was astounded. And a bit nervous. "I'm not a very good swimmer, sir, I'd just slow you down."

"Potter," Snape sighed, exasperated, "I don't care. Swimming is relaxing as well as will make you stronger. We won't be interacting while swimming. We will be underwater. Just let me know your answer when you come up with one. Now, I will see you tomorrow for class and dinner. Please refrain from getting into trouble, harming yourself, or making poor decisions until then."

Harry stood, replaced his glamour, and made his way to the door he entered through. Before he walked through it, he turned and said "Thank you," very softly, scurrying out right after.

And then, Harry ran from Snape's quarters all the way to the entrance hall, not stopping once. He only stopped because he heard a certain snarky blonde yell his name anyway. For some reason, the strangeness of what had happened that morning filled him with fear and hope and sadness for what never was.

He skidded to a stop in front of Draco and shook it all from his head.

"Hey Draco, Ginny."

"Mate, did you even sleep?" Draco, dressed down for the day but hair still immaculate, looks worriedly at Harry.

"A bit. Took a nap outside," Harry shrugged, looking down.

"Weeeellll," Ginny drawled, stepping between Draco's curious eyes and Harry, who was scuffing his shoe on the ground, "Blondie here is gonna give me a haircut. You want in?"

Ginny's voice, as usual, radiated fun and mischief, as well as a good dose of wisdom somehow. Like a mix of Mrs. Weasley and the twins.

"Yeah, I'll take one," Harry looked up, smiling. Draco grinned back widely, and then lurched forward as Ginny clapped him on the back.

"I'm gonna go find Luna and will meet you both in your room. She's usually wandering around the greenhouses by now," Ginny rolled her eyes and bounded off, leaving the two boys to walk back alone.

"So, where did you go this morning?" Draco began walking up the stairs, Harry trailing him.

"I told you. I went outside, took a walk, took a nap, and here I am," Harry replied, shrugging off the rest of the truth.

"Right right. Where did you get that sweater?" Draco quirked one eyebrow up, his eyes full of something? Anger? Jealousy?

"I didn't hook up with anyone, if that's what you're asking," Harry snapped. "If you must know, Snape found me outside, told me I was stupid for not wearing a jacket and put this sweater on me. And now I essentially have detention with him every night for dinner because he thinks I'm bloody unstable."

Draco stared at him for a few seconds, pausing on a stair, then started laughing. His laugh was high-pitched and a bit outrageous, and it always made Harry join in, even when he didn't want to.

"That sounds just like him," Draco wheezed out, beginning to climb again.

"What? No it doesn't. He's probably going to make fun of me in class! And be a total prat when I'm around," Harry protested. Draco started laughing again, confusing Harry even more. "What the fuck? Why are you laughing?"

Draco clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, startling him. Draco kept it there though, unlike any other time they touch.

"Harry. Snape made me _live_ with him for two weeks last year. It was like a month after the battle and he thought I was a danger to myself so I lived in his quarters for two weeks. It's not bad, mate. He just kinda makes sure you stay alive and will stay out of your way."

"Really? You had to live with him?"

"Yeah. But it is a bit different with me since I've known him my whole life. Plus the trials were going on so everything was a bit hectic. But don't worry. He wouldn't have done this if he was going to make fun of you. I don't think he's ever done something like this to a non-Slytherin before. Just go to dinner, follow his rules, and it'll be easy."

"Maybe for you. He likes you! Just… don't tell anyone, okay?"

Draco looked at him seriously for a moment, clapped him on the back once more, and nodded. "Of course I won't. Now, whoever makes it to the room last has to roll the joint," Draco smirked, running ahead.

"You prat! You got a head start!" Harry yelled, running after him.

By the time Harry made it to RoRi, he was out of breath, panting like a dog, while Draco was lounging on the sofa calm as day.

"You seriously need to go to Quidditch practice," Draco laughed as Harry sank into a chair and tapped on the table. A huge glass of water popped up and he inhaled it, trying to clear the black spots from his eyes.

"Might swim," Harry panted.

"That seems smart, seeing as you can barely breathe above water," Draco giggled, high pitched and contagious.

"Shut up, mate," Harry grinned.

"Yeah, yeah, roll up, Potter." Harry refilled his water and set to work rolling a few joints for the afternoon while Draco rummaged through one of his drawers.

He came back to the table as Luna and Ginny walked in.

"Hey ladies," Draco said smoothly, holding up a pair of scissors and a something that looked like muggle hair clippers.

"Draconius Malfoy, do not smoke or drink while doing my hair," Ginny exclaimed when she saw Harry lean back and light a joint.

"If you call me Draconius I will get blackout drunk and shave your head, Ginevra Weasley," Draco snapped. Luna started laughing so hard she sat on the ground before rolling over to Harry and promptly stealing the joint from his hand.

"How are you, Luna?" Harry asked.

"Fine, fine. Wrackspurts stole all my quills last night though," she said dreamily, inhaling deeply and then covering Harry in a cloud of smoke. Harry glanced at Ginny who looked quite furious.

"I'll get them back, Luna," the redhead promised. It was common knowledge that people stole from Luna and teased her, though the girl herself never seemed to acknowledge that actual students were the culprits.

"Harry has experienced a lightening of anipondus. Funny little creatures, always weighing you down. Whatever you did, Harry, keep doing it. Your smile is brighter, you know, like you have friends."

"Er… okay. I'll try?" Harry blushed. _Does that mean party more or hang out with Snape more? I have to be around Snape, but I will gladly throw more parties._

"Yeah yeah, Potter's got soul-bees, me too," Draco waved his hand towards the chair he set up, "But who is going first?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, before motioning to Harry.

"Ay, why me?"

"Because I'm getting a dramatic cut. He should practice first. Yours won't be that noticeable. Get up there, brave Gryff!" Ginny commanded.

"You're a Gryffindor, too," Harry muttered, but stole back his joint and plopped in the chair. "Can you make me a drink, Gin? Hair of the dog, and all," Harry asked.

"Hair of the what?" Draco said, pretending to gag.

"Muggle expression," Harry rolled his eyes. "Means to drink the next morning after you drank all night so you don't feel so sick."

"Alright, scar head, whatever you say. Now, sides and back shaved off? Like the beginning of the school year?"

"Yep, thanks Draco," Harry yawned, accepting the glass from Ginny and taking a large swig. He watched as the redhead sauntered back to the blonde who had started smoking another joint. "So, um, what are soul-bees?"

"Luna called them anipondus. Essentially, they're mythical bee type things that sting your soul so that it gets heavy with poison and cause it to sink. There shouldn't be too many because then you'll lose your soul, and not too few because that means you're full of honey; too sweet and stupid. Garbage for kids, mostly," Draco sighed. "But I think its just more of Luna speak. She uses grand metaphors and obscure myths to let you know she knows how you are. I think she can see auras, personally, though aura sight is practically extinguished these days. Or maybe she's just crazy and weirdly insightful. I don't know.

"Anyway, I know you're not a fan of being touched, but I'm going to have to for this part. Just my hands around your hair and all. Tell me if you need a drink refill," Draco had softened his voice significantly. Harry blushed deeply, but nodded.

Soon, the blonde's delicate hands were running through his hair, tracing behind the clippers, pulling hair up straight for snips, and flicking it to the side. After the brief beginning moments when that familiar feeling of air being trapped outside his lungs subsided, Harry found he quite enjoyed Draco's hands. He relaxed into the slightly, barely noticing that Draco began touching even more, allowing a sense of calm to come over him now.

Too soon, it seemed, Draco was finished. He handed a mirror to Harry to inspect and Harry found that it was perfect. The mirror even exclaimed that Harry was a handsome, strange young thing, making Harry blush a bit.

"It's great Draco! Thank you," Harry exclaimed, causing Draco to beam back before haughtily shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course it is. I am me, after all."

Ginny snorted from laughter, stopping abruptly when Draco shot her a look. She rolled her eyes and took Harry's place in the chair while Harry went and refilled his drink.

"So, all clubs have to have a faculty member in charge. Who should it be for the Gay Brigade?" The red head asked, watching as long pieces of her hair drifted to the ground.

"Are there any gay professors?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore is gay," Luna said, laying on her back on Harry's skateboard.

"What?" Everyone else yelled. Draco started laughing, moving away from Ginny's hair as he dangerously chortled.

"Er, okay, but the Headmaster won't head a silly club," Harry said reasonably, "Besides, what's the purpose of this club?"

"Oh Merlin, Potter, do you know anything?" Ginny sighed.

"No."

"Alright well, since you, blondie, and me have come out, slews of others are too and they're being picked on and isolated. So, we want to have a club to promote safety and inclusion, pride and security, as well as get our own table in the Great Hall. Ravenclaw is getting annoyed that we've taken over. So, any other gay teachers?"

"Hooch seems gay," Harry shrugged. He honestly didn't know why people would make a group to be happy about being gay. _Thought it was a bad thing. Not something to be proud of. It's shameful and wrong. Just means we're freaks. Why would we want to tell the world about it?_

"Snape is gay," Draco said, trimming Ginny's much shorter hair.

"WHAT?" Ginny and Harry yelled. "You've got to be fucking joking," Ginny added, her mouth wide open.

"What? I thought it was kind of obvious. He's the most dramatic man ever. Have you seen his billowing robes?"

"I honestly never even though about him being in a relationship," Ginny said.

"I thought he was in love with my mum," Harry laughed. It wasn't laughter from humor, but more from how strange this situation was.

"I don't know anything about your mother, Potter, but I do know he's got a boyfriend he won't let anyone meet. My mother was most displeased after she tried setting him up this summer. Apparently they've been together for a while. But we could ask him. He would do it for me," Draco said, loping off more bright red hair.

"Yes, but would people show up?" Ginny asked, grabbing the mirror and looking at her hair.

"Of course. He's a hero. Haven't you seen the way people look at him in class?" Luna made her way into the conversation.

"What?" Harry asked. His class was similar to previous years. Snape wasn't as vicious but people weren't exactly enamored with him.

"No, she's right. The Puffs and Claws definitely like him loads more now. He won an Order of Merlin and isn't being a total git in every class. He could maybe work. We should get a more neutral teacher as well, though. Maybe Lupin? Everyone loves him," Ginny said, trailing off with scowl. Harry furrowed his brows. _Who doesn't like Lupin? I mean, I'm not fond of him now but he's a good teacher._

"I don't trust him," Draco said firmly.

"Oh get off it. He's not gonna turn into a werewolf at any moment and attack. You know Dumbledore and Snape have got him extra controlled this year," Harry sighed. His own reasons for not being in the Lupin fan club had absolutely nothing to do with lycanthropy.

"Is Lupin gay?" Ginny asked, looking at Harry.

"Fuck if I know. He's never mentioned anyone to me, boy or girl. I reckon he would be alright, though. People like him and he's level headed."

"Except when he turns into a monster," Draco muttered.

"Malfoy. Is this like a pureblood thing you were raised with?" Harry was getting angry with the blonde. Draco rarely showed any discrimination anymore besides the occasional slip up with a snotty attitude, so this wasn't making much sense.

"No, Potter, as a matter of fact it isn't," Draco scowled. "It is actually because Greyback lived in my house for months at a time. Your precious Lupin may be gentle and take his potion like a good wolf, but I've seen werewolves at their worst. Not to mention that Greyback showed an enormous interest in me because he likes turning children. Mother had me sent to Sev's for a month before fourth year," Draco ranted, his face turning bright pink.

"Shite, mate, I'm sorry. Didn't realize you had to spend time with that rubbage of a being," Ginny said in her brusque casual tone. Harry stayed silent though, guilt worming his way through him. _Draco is scared of werewolves. And I just accused him of being a prat when he has a real reason to fear them._

"Lupin will be fine as long as Sev agrees. Deal?" Draco asked, face back to the porcelain white it usually was.

"Deal," said Luna, surprising them all. She had been silent for so long during their intense conversation that she had slipped their minds. "I think Snape is quite sweet and protective, like a mother bear. And Lupin loves to teach and discuss, as well as being protective due to his lycanthropy. So, if he considers the Gay Brigade his pack, he will protect us all," Luna carried on, words firm, but she had walked to Draco's bed and was laying off the side, upside down.

"Right, well, maybe," Harry offered. _Snape? A mother bear? Luna has the strangest ideas._ He always felt a little awkward responding to the strange things Luna said. "Lupin doesn't have a pack anymore, maybe he needs a new one."

"What do you mean by pack, Potter?" Draco asked, confusion and a hint of fear on his face while he brushed out the remaining hair on Ginny's head.

"He used to consider his pack to be my father, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. And me, I guess. He called me cub when we were working together before the Battle. I'm sure it's lonely since he lost Sirius, is all," Harry said, swallowing hard at the thought of his godfather. _Lupin is alone because of me. Sirius is dead because I didn't die first. And now Lupin is alone. I don't deserve his kindness or familiarity._

Draco handed Ginny the mirror, quickly walking around the chair and grabbing Harry's shoulder, steering him towards the sofa.

"Well, mate, I'll ask Uncle Sev, Ginny will ask Lupin, and everyone will be happy. Except for Severus because he hates everyone," Draco said, lighting up a joint and passing it to Harry with a laugh.

Harry smiled a bit too, but it grew even wider when he really looked at Ginny and discovered they had gotten almost identical haircuts. Her hair was just a little longer on top and, of course, the brilliant Weasley red.

Ginny sat in a chair, telling a story about some terrible mishaps in their Charms class involving a boy's crotch and a mispronounced spell, while Luna dreamily sat on her lap, stealing her drink.

Draco and Harry sat together on the sofa, laughing as their arms grazed each other gently, relaxed and content after a very strange day.

SSsssssssssssss

Severus was submerged in the bathtub, holding his breath under the sea of bubbles, his hair a contrast to the bright pinks and greens that filled the tub.

A hand reached in and grabbed his shoulder, causing him to splutter when he broke surface.

"Get out, Sev. I hate when you do that," Remus said, grabbing a towel from the back of the door.

"It wasn't for long," Severus protested, accepting the hand Remus gave him, pulling him up from the tub. He often tested the boundaries of his lungs in the bathtub, primarily when he was upset over something. It made Remus nervous, however, and he was frequently scolded for it.

"Come on, love," Remus said, ignoring Severus, "Let's get you dried off and we can relax all afternoon," he told him softly, golden eyes worried.

"Like I'll be able to bloody relax," Sev spat, fury still in his bones from the completely unstable morning he had. He begrudgingly allowed Remus to dry him off and followed him into the bedroom. As he reached for a shirt, Severus was pulled backwards and thrown on the bed casually, as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Remus! What are you doing?" Severus barely had any time to prepare as Remus pounced him, playfully kissing him all over his face, causing the smallest of smiles.

"Shut up, love, let me work," Remus whispered in his ear, transforming the mood again. Snape locked eyes with the werewolf and nodded, allowing warm hands to cover his body.

Remus knew exactly what Severus liked, at times before even Severus did. After all, Sev had never bottomed before Remus. He never let anyone have that power over him. He was fierce, silent, and only accepted one-night stands before he was shown something completely new.

Now he prefers Remus to take charge, to take care of him, to let him sink into bliss without worry. Just as the werewolf is doing now. His large, calloused hands were exactly where they should be. One was pinching and rolling his nipples, something that used to embarrass him due to how aroused he became from it, and the other hand was rubbing over his abdomen, hips, and inner thighs.

Remus rested on his knees beside him, calmly working his magic with a grin on his lips. He loved this, Sev knew, loved working slowly, hearing those traitorous noises that came from his own thin lips as he hardened.

"Clothes, Rem, off," Severus gasped, trying to unbutton the man's shirt as he rolled his hips into the air.

Remus obliged and soon was over Severus, licking up from his thighs, swirling around his hips, sucking his nipples, and finally biting down on Sev's good shoulder, hard. Severus loved it. Loved being marked. Loved it all over his body. He was hoping he would be by the end of today.

The men wrapped their arms around each other furiously, Sev grabbing on Remus's shoulders as the brunette pulled Severus up and onto him, resting the thin man on his lap, their erections brushing against each other. Remus ran one hand through Severus' hair, pulling it and forcing Severus to look at him with a gasp from the sharp pain that made him throb harder.

"It's been over a week, love, are you okay?" Remus asked, gentle and fervent at the same time. Severus gulped, overwhelmed by his lover and needing more.

"Yes, just, lube, lots, please, Rem, please," Severus moaned, desperate for the man, despite the pain he knew he would feel in a minute. Remus was large, very large, and if they hadn't had sex in over a week they would usually spend some time stretching Severus out.

Not today. Severus needed him now. The anxiety that was suffocating him earlier was so close to being gone. He needed his lover inside him now. He needed safety. He needed release. He needed Remus.

Remus conjured the jar of homemade lube with his hand, quickly applying it to his girth and plunging two coated fingers into Severus, making the Potions Master growl and buck, losing any sense of control he had maintained until then.

Remus laid Sev onto his back, pushing his knees up in the air firmly, his wolf side coming out just a bit. Remus was aiming to claim Severus, make him his again and again. Severus whined, desperation clear. They locked eyes once more, both of them nodding consent, eyes filled with lust and longing, both panting.

Remus pushed in all the way, hard, making Severus emit a noise somewhere between and moan and a shout. It hurt, it hurt, it made him feel so full, so very much full, as he moaned and rocked against his lover, begging for more.

He got more. Remus began pumping into him, leaving him gasping and moaning recklessly. He could feel his chest loosen with each stroke, coming undone faster and faster as Remus picked up the pace, pain falling away into sharp pleasure. The wolf began biting and sucking all over his chest, bruising his nipples fiercely.

Finally the brunette pushed in harder than before, over and over, and began gently grasping the head of Severus's cock.

It only took a few moments after that for them both to come, Severus first, squeezing tight around Remus, causing him to follow quickly. They stayed still for a few moments, panting, trying to regain equilibrium to their surroundings.

Remus gently removed himself, causing Severus to inhale sharply in pain and pleasure. The werewolf knelt over Sev, tipping his chin up to meet his gentle kiss and gentler eyes.

"I love you, Severus Snape," he whispered, a light smile on his scarred face.

Severus pulled the man back down, then curled into the man on his side, breathing him in. _Honey and cinnamon. Some soil and wildflowers. Fields. The sun. Picnics hidden in orchards. Dust. The mix of mud and water from the lake. His favorite books. The leather sofa. The stone walls of the castle. The comforter over our heads. Sweat from a hard days work. Fresh lumber for their porch. Blue paint._

"Love?"

"Love," Snape replied. Remus wrapped one arm around him, tracing the knobs of his spine. Slowly, they fell asleep, both lighter than the hour before.

Sssssssssssssssss

"Are you sure you don't want help?" Remus asked for the twenty-third time in the past hour.

"Yes. Remus. You barely even know what's going on. I promised the boy it would remain confidential. So, no, for the last time, I do not need your help," Severus sighed. The past two hours had involved Severus consoling Remus that Potter was not on his deathbed. He had explained that he would be having dinner with the child every weekday evening and may help him with homework or such.

Remus was not satisfied with the vague explanations Severus gave him. All he knew was that Potter was struggling emotionally and was not taking good care of himself.

"Is he anorexic," Remus asked for the fourth time, "I never see him at meals anymore."

"Honey, I may have to turn you into a potion. You know there are a few potions that need werewolf parts. Even if he was, I would not tell you. Let me try to help him by gaining his trust and not blabbering about him all over the castle," Severus rolled his eyes, swatting his partner on the back of the head lightly.

"Alright, alright. Fine. I give up. Just tell me when he's gone so I can come home. This will give me some time to start the underwater garden research I need to do, anyway," Remus smiled, flopping into an armchair and taking his cup of tea from the table.

"Exactly, and it gives me time to do nothing at all because I will be attempting to help someone who hates me, for the hundredth time," Severus snarked, sitting opposite Remus in his armchair.

"Shush, Harry doesn't hate anyone. You just have to remain open and maybe not scowl so much."

"I will scowl as often as I please," Severus huffed, showing off a scowl just because. It only made Remus laugh.

"Well, I hope it goes well. And I hope he will talk to me eventually instead of just looking at his desk or Draco the whole class period. Do you think there is something between those two?"

"I can only hope not since they live alone together with no supervision whatsoever because the Headmaster thinks it's a good idea. However, if their living situation was different, I would not be opposed once Potter seems more stable. However, there are some other relationships that have unfortunately blossomed that I strongly oppose, mostly due to an increase in cauldron explosions," Severus grimaced at the latest memory.

"Let me guess," Remus said joyfully, "Ron Weasley and Pavarti Patil."

"Patil did not make it to NEWT level but the image makes me sick regardless."

"Indeed. What about little Lance Shirley who can barely keep his eyes off Rachael Finley? The boy has no tact in his affection," Lupin grimaced at the thought of the two fourth years.

"Exactly, it's like watching a tornado. Complete destruction for whatever is in its path. He made the potions classroom turn blue, along with all his classmates as he fumbled around like the incompetent fool he is. And Finley was absolutely furious with him."

Remus laughed loudly at the image, head thrown back and relaxed in his chair. Seeing his partner laugh made Severus smile. Just a bit.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello! I have a question for you all, as usual. Should I keep going day by day, or should I tell snippets of the week so I can get to the next big drama? I have a lot planned, but just wanted to know what you guys would like as the pace. Please let me know how you feel about this chapter! I get nervous._

 _Thank you guys. Enjoy._

5:32. Harry woke from a startling dream. He stayed in bed, trying to piece it back together, but all he could remember was the Great Hall cracking in half while Lavender Brown sat in the Headmaster's seat. He shook it off and crawled out of the warmth of his bed, walking across the room silently and plopping onto the sofa.

He tapped the table for his coffee and lit a cigarette, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. One of Draco's fancy devices hung over him. It was a large reconstruction of a dragon skeleton made from a shiny gold material. Maybe actual gold as far as Harry knew.

For an hour Harry alternated bringing coffee, a cigarette, and a joint to his mouth until the blonde he shared a room with stumbled out of bed.

Draco, despite being almost annoyingly talkative the rest of the day, needs about fifteen minutes before he can utter a word in the mornings. Some days Harry enjoys asking him complex questions or making fun of his bed head (something that causes a deep scowl on the blonde's face) just to see the boy hold up a hand in silent desperation, or at times just show Harry a rather rude hand gesture.

Today Harry let him go freely into the bathroom, hearing the comforting morning ritual of the shower twisting on. Harry tapped on the table again, receiving more coffee and a bowl of fruit, along with his nutrition potion.

By the time Draco got out, Harry was carefully picking at blueberries and smoking another joint. He tried to ignore Draco's towel, only looking up once the blonde approached ten minutes later, school clothes already on.

"Potter, how long have you been awake?" Draco raised his eyebrows in a very condescending manner.

"Bit over an hour. Why?"

"Your eyes are so red, mate. You look positively destroyed. Go take a shower and try and look like a meaningful contribution to society," Draco scolded, nipping the joint from Harry's fingers and inhaling himself.

Harry rolled his eyes but gathered his clothing and headed for the shower. After washing his hair and reapplying the glamour, he dressed in his regular attire and stepped out.

"At least you don't smell like you're growing marijuana in our room anymore," Draco commented, lacing up his boots.

"Yeah, yeah, it doesn't matter. We have Defense first and the full moon is tonight. We're sure to have a substitute," Harry reasoned even though he knew he was very stoned.

"True, unless its McGonagall that's coming in. Then you're gonna look like a total wanker being that stoned," Draco laughed.

"Mate, the way you say wanker makes it sounds like you're in a super posh restaurant trying to impress a date," Harry cackled.

"Well, Potter, some of us grew up with manners," the blonde huffed, but a smile lurked underneath.

"Right, well just work on that one, ya bloody wanker," Harry said, stuffing two mini bottles of vodka in his bag along with cigarettes and joints. "Now let's go in case it is McGonagall so we don't get points taken."

Draco huffed again but shouldered his bag and followed Harry out the door. They trotted down the stairs, laughing at each other, a bit uncontrollably. Rarely would Draco also smoke in the mornings and it seemed to make him especially giddy.

They rolled into class a minute before the door closed, pink cheeked and red eyed, joyful to find that the substitute was Binns of all people.

It was even better when they realized the ghost was giving a lecture designed for third year students, not sixth year defense.

Harry doodled all over his parchment, asking Draco to pose for a portrait. The blonde vainly struck a pose to accentuate his sharp features. Harry sketched it out for him, a little heavy handed for ink, but thought it turned out okay. Draco attempted to draw Harry next, but bits of parchment were being thrown at them.

"Weasley, stop it," Draco hissed to the redhead who was giggling with Seamus. In response, Ron scribbled something on his parchment, tapped it with his wand, then made it float over to them.

The letter simply said "FAG," and floated in front of them for a moment before catching on fire.

"Why you pathetic, insignificant pair of beetle eyes," Draco started, standing angrily, face pink. "You deserve to be hexed into oblivion. You think you're so high and mighty, making fun of the queer kids. Thought you were Light, Weasel? I thought, blindly, that maybe you were an open-minded bloke since you hail from the most prominent of blood-traitor families? Turns out you're an ignorant, fear-mongering, stupid sack of hippogriff dung."

The whole class was staring, even Binns. Harry grabbed Malfoy's elbow and pulled him back into his seat. There was silence for a moment more, Draco panting and Harry staring at his desk.

"That'll be five points from Ravenclaw," Binns called out, and then simply turned back to his lecture. Draco snorted loudly. A Ravenclaw glared at him from across the room.

"Draco, what the fuck?" Harry whispered angrily.

"What Potter?"

"Why did you say all that? It wasn't necessary."

"Wasn't necessary? What the fuck is wrong with you? He just sent us something that could be considered a death threat! I don't know about you, but I'm not going to let him get away with being a complete and total git," Draco scoffed.

"Now he's just going to be more angry and find more ways to make fun of us," Harry retorted angrily. He looked around the room, seeing that no one except Ron was paying attention, though many groups of friends were whispering to each other. The boy's ears were bright red, but when he saw Harry looking he fake lunged and growled a little.

"Fuck this," Harry said, standing and grabbing his bag. He hurried through the door and down the corridor as fast as he could; trotting down stairs and only stopping once he reached a balcony on the third floor.

 _Stupid fucking Ron._ Harry lit a cigarette. _Stupid fucking Draco. Can't anyone just let me disappear? I don't want to be noticed, I don't need anyone to stand up for me._ Harry cast a notice-me-not charm on the door and rummaged through his bag, cigarette still dangling from his lips.

He pulled one of his mini vodka bottles out, unscrewed it, and swallowed it in one gulp. When he was finished he threw the small glass container as hard as he could over the railing, watching it glint in the light as it fell.

Then he lit a joint. He laid on the floor of the balcony, his head on his bag, and smoked, eyes closed. The sun warmed him and soothed him. _It doesn't matter. It'll all blow over soon. No one cares. No one cares. Not about me. So no one will interfere or make a big deal. Except bloody Draco because his pride is too high._

It was an hour later of stoned sunny bliss away from the crowds that Harry checked his watch. _Fuck. Time for lunch. Fucking Snape._

Harry stood slowly, feeling a little dizzy. He cast a _finite_ at the door and entered the rest of the stragglers heading to lunch.

For the first time since the first night at Hogwarts, Harry stepped foot into the Great Hall. He stood warily for a moment, recognizing that he was stoned and a bit confused. And that people were staring at him.

 _Right. Ravenclaw table. Okay._ Harry saw a familiar red head and blonde and slid into the seat between them.

"Look what we have here," Ginny commented, "The elusive Mr. Potter, seen earlier today casually walking out of a class thirty minutes before it was over." A few snickers could be heard.

"That could have been bad, Harry," Hermione started from across the table. "Binns could have taken a bunch of points for that."

"Yeah right. He didn't even notice it happened," Draco laughed, patting Harry on the shoulder. Harry moved away. He was still a bit angry at Draco for the stunt he pulled in class.

Draco looked put off, but moved his hands back into his own personal space. From then on out, Harry didn't say much. There was a lot of noise in the Great Hall and it was making Harry feel lightheaded. Even everyone around him was engaged in conversation. Draco and Hermione were comparing Charms essays. Ginny was entertaining Neville and Hannah Abott by making her fork and knife get into a lover's spat. Luna and Dean were having a conversation, though Dean looked very uncomfortable.

Harry finally put some mashed potatoes on his plate. Just looking at them made him feel sick. So he added green beans. Then a piece of chicken. The room was getting louder. He looked up at the Head table to see Snape raising an eyebrow at him. _Fuck._ He plated a roll. And a ham sandwich. Slices of tomato were added. Harry felt compelled to do it, but was completely disgusted by it all. He felt tons of nervous energy, his fingers tapping the table and knee bouncing uncontrollably.

"Hello, Harry," a voice said from behind him, making him jump.

"Er, hello, Ernie," Harry replied when he turned to face the other boy. "I'm actually just leaving now, I'm sorry." Harry stood abruptly, fighting the urge to throw up. He heard Draco ask if he was okay, but ignored it.

"You don't have to leave because of me, Harry," Ernie said in a low voice.

"Not you. Don't feel good." Harry sidestepped Ernie and walked towards the door, trying to keep control of his stomach. He felt hot and trapped and needed to get some air. He kept his head down, counting the steps.

Then he tripped over nothing. _Tripping hex, duh_. His chin slammed into the stone floor hard, sliding a bit. He heard laughter. Laughter that used to be with him, not about him.

Harry got to his knees, emotions swirling hard and fast inside of him. For some reason, he shot out his hands and whispered, _"Levicorpus."_

Ron and Seamus were suddenly dangling three feet from the ground, appearing as if they were being held up by an ankle, blood rushing to their heads.

 _Oh fuck._ Harry got up and ran, whispers and laughter brushing past him until he was free of the Hall. He did not stop running until he reached the Eastern courtyard. Then he threw up in the bushes.

He sank down after he finished dry heaving and laid on his back. His stomach ached painfully, he felt so overheated, his mouth felt disgusting. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the other bottle of vodka and drank the small amount that was inside. Then he muttered _augamenti_ and drank down the water. He repeated that a few times before pulling out a cigarette.

When he got to his second smoke, after chanting _I don't matter, I don't matter, I don't matter,_ for the entire duration of the first one, he clambered to his feet. _Potions in twenty minutes. Maybe I can skip?_ Harry snorted. _No chance in hell. Snape would kill me if I skipped Potions but show for dinner. And he will hunt me down if I don't show for dinner. Fuck. Why is he doing this? Why is he doing this? Why is he pretending to care? It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair._

Harry pulled up the sleeve of his robe and examined the glamoured skin. He took a deep inhale and then quickly twisted his cigarette into his arm and held it there, body snapping tight in response to the pain. He felt giddy as he banished the smoke and removed the glamour. Adrenaline poured into him, making him feel lighter than ever. He felt dizzy and excited and nauseous and happy. There on his arm was a small pink circle, bubbling up against his tan skin.

He put his glamour back on and swung his bag over his shoulder, ready to face class again. He ran his hand through his hair, sighed, and walked through a side door that led to stairs for the dungeon.

Harry paused around the corner from the classroom and waited about five minutes for most of the class to enter before he ducked through and slid into his seat. Draco turned to him, obviously about to tell him off, when Snape glided in, just as Harry hoped.

"Shut your babbling mouths and begin the potion on the board. Page 112 in your book if you must view that as well. Begin," Snape called out.

Harry quickly stood to gather ingredients, bringing his book with him. _Antidote for Acromantula Venom. Maybe we're giving it to Hagrid, if any of these turn out okay. Merlin, this is a complicated one. Over twenty ingredients. How are we supposed to finish it in this class period?_

Harry, while waiting in line for the ingredients cupboard, skimmed through the instructions in his book. The typed part said the first half of the instructions should sit for one day, but the scrawled part on the margins said to let it sit for three days. _Exactly when our next class is._ That thought buzzed in the back of Harry's head, but he shook it off and just gathered the ingredients for the first half.

When he got back to his seat, he angled his chair to face away from Draco slightly and set to work. He ignored when the blonde sat down, choosing to focus on grinding stinging nettles into a fine powder. The pain on his arm and in his stomach helped him focus, helped him ignore everyone else. Even when Ron walked in fifteen minutes late, he kept his head down and kept brewing. Though he did grin just a bit when Snape yelled at him and gave him a week's attention with Filch when his other detentions are completed. Draco and Harry worked in silence for an hour until they were both stirring clockwise for thirty rotations.

"Harry, what happened at lunch?" Draco whispered.

"Tripping hex, that's all," Harry said. _19, 20, 21, 22._

"You disappeared during DADA and lunch, mate. I was worried," the Slytherin said softly.

"Don't worry. I was fine," Harry said through gritted teeth, completing his thirtieth rotation. But his stomach clenched with guilt and sadness. _I let someone get attached enough that they worried._ Aside from guilt though, something similar to hope bubbled up in his stomach.

"Merlin, Potter. Of course I was worried. You look like shite, ya know? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Draco. But this next step is hard, let me focus," Harry shifted his weight away from the blonde and added peeled ginger one at a time to the center of his potion. Mercifully, his friend stayed quiet the duration of the class.

An hour later, Snape finally called time and told them to place a stasis charm on their cauldrons. He dismissed the class and Harry hurried to stuff his things in his bag and get out when the dour man called out again.

"Mr. Malfoy and Potter, stay back."

 _What the fuck? I'm gonna see him in like an hour anyway._

Regardless, the two approached the professor's desk. Harry cautiously stood a step back from where Draco confidently sauntered.

"Draco," Snape started lowly, voice cold. Draco immediately snapped his shoulders to attention. "I would like three feet on why standing and shouting is both foolish and goes against Slytherin ideals of conduct. I am disappointed in your rash behavior. There are better ways to express dislike and rally against opposition. I would like your essay by Wednesday morning. You may go. Close the door after you. Mr. Potter will be along shortly."

Draco, face flushed, muttered, "Yes, Professor," and turned on his heel to flee the wrath of the Potions Master.

Once the door was closed, Snape settled his dark eyes on Harry, who immediately looked down.

"Glamour off, Potter," Snape said carelessly.

 _Oh no. He can't know that I burned myself. No no no nononononono._

"Potter. Your chin must be in pain. Just let me examine it and give you the proper salve to soothe it. Desist with the stalling," Snape ordered, making it clear his patience was waning.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the glamour from his face. He watched Snape's jaw tighten and Harry reached to feel his face. _Only a rough patch, bit of blood. Not too bad. That stone floor is rather unforgiving._

Snape waved his wand and two jars appeared. "This one is a bruise salve and this one will treat the abrasion. Apply promptly after you wash your face and make sure to use the one for abrasions first. I will see you at dinner time. Now, leave, I have a class of first years to attend to." Snape waved his hand at him in dismissal and Harry hurriedly grabbed the jars and stuffed them in his bag. He put his glamour back on and nodded to his professor.

"Thanks, Professor," he murmured and left the cold room, passing by a line of first years waiting at the next door over for their class. They stared at him with wide eyes as he passed. He raised an eyebrow but did not speak to any of them on his way to the back staircase. He heard them whispering after him though. _Every year._

After the arduous climb to his room, Harry entered his room and grinned when he realized it was empty. He was sure he was going to have to face Draco's concerns once more. Now though, Harry just flopped onto his bed, accio-ed his cigarettes, and blew smoke at the ceiling.

It had been an awful day. He was angry with Draco for acting like an overprotective lion and embarrassing them in class. Which then led to the tripping hex at lunch. Which he was already mad about being forced to attend in the first place. Then he had dry heaved, so his throat hurt, his stomach was more restless than usual, and his chin was cut up. _And I feel like a complete and total idiot._

Harry had been bullied many times before. Dudley was the bully of his childhood, of course, along with all his little friends. At Hogwarts, Draco and his previous goons had disrupted his peace. Snape had gone after him more than other students. And Harry was not unfamiliar with the whole castle turning against him.

This was different. Hogwarts, for all its faults over the years, had always seemed like a safe haven. Even when there was a basilisk on the loose or Voldemort was attached to the back of a professor's head, and even despite the disastrous train of DADA instructors. Students had not ever physically ganged up on him. He had never been kicked out of his room. Usually the reason people were angry with him was due to an unfounded lie.

However, this was the truth. He was gay, as much as he hates being it. And everyone knew. There was a real reason to hate him, a real reason his best mate hexes him.

Harry wanted a drink. He settled for another cigarette. _If Snape knows I drank on the first night of our agreement, he will surely put me in detention and never let me back for dinner._

Harry froze at the thought, then let out a bark of cynical laughter. _Sounded like I want to be around the greasy git. Or that I care if he cares. Of course he doesn't. He hates me. He's doing this because he knows I'm pathetic. It's just pity. Just pity. Pity._

Harry growled in frustration. He wanted a drink. He wanted to get a little high. Today was awful; he deserved to do what he wanted now that he was free from class. And he desperately did not want to think about what made him so pitiful. Just as he had tried desperately to not think of what marked his shoulder. And how he could never be seen by anyone because of it. If he ever managed to hook up with anyone, they would see it and know exactly what he was.

He cast a _tempus_ , banished his cigarette, and begrudgingly stood up. He rushed to the bathroom and applied the balms Snape had given him. Then he simply threw his bag back over his shoulder, exited the room, and went back down the stairs he so recently climbed up. He found his way to the tapestry that marked the Head of Slytherin's quarters. And waited.

 _Am I supposed to knock on a tapestry? Should I have met him in the classroom?_ Harry began to grow anxious and was thinking he should just turn around now when a voice called out.

"Potter, please enter," Snape said from behind him. Harry jumped a bit, but kept his eyes down and walked through the tapestry. He heard Snape step through after him. Harry stood awkwardly, waiting for instructions to come. Even from behind, he could feel the Potion Master's gaze cutting through him.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," the man in black said softly. Harry sat, this time in the chair opposite Snape's. And fidgeted. And stared at the rug. He hated not knowing what was going to happen or what he was expected to do. After the day he just went through, Harry just wanted to smoke until oblivion, like he had during the gaps in his day. But he didn't want to stop. Just keep smoking until he couldn't even see. Instead he was sitting in Snape's quarters, completely out of place.

"Well, I believe we agreed upon dinner. Is there anything you would like in particular?" Snape settled into his chair and peered at Harry. Harry simply shrugged.

"Very well." Snape tapped the table twice and two large bowls appeared, crusty slices of bread resting on the sides. "Due to your small stomach, I thought it best to start with something easy. Chicken broth with carrots and rice should do the trick. I expect you to eat a decent amount," the man said, then lowered his voice just a tad, "Especially because you did not eat lunch."

Harry felt a tendril of anger sneak up. Instead of saying anything, like Snape probably expected of him, he picked up the spoon and had a bit.

It was soothing; warm and gently flavorful, it made his throat and stomach relax for the first time in what felt like months. So he took another bite, and another.

"How was your day, Mr. Potter?" Harry glanced up only enough to view Snape's long fingers pick up a glass of water. He shrugged, eyes back down.

"Verbal responses, please." That tendril of anger snapped up again.

"It was bloody fantastic, _sir._ Really charming," Harry snapped. The second after, his heart stopped beating for a just a moment as he realized what he said.

"Cheek, Mr. Potter. I understand it was a difficult day, so perhaps we should just resume the question game. However, we shall keep it light today."

Harry looked up at Snape for the first time since he arrived. _I barely even got scolded for being that rude? What's he trying to play at?_

"Er, okay. Does that make it my turn?" _Whatever it is, maybe it'll at least be interesting to ask this man questions. Not exactly like anyone knows anything about him._

"I suppose it does. The same rules apply as last time," Snape said, delicately picking up his spoon and taking another bite. _Alright think think think._

"How many NEWTS did you get?" _That's safe enough._

"Let's see. I received a perfect Potion and Defense score. I also did well in Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms. I barely passed Transfiguration."

"You got eight bloody NEWTS?" _No fucking way. That's too hard._

"Language, Mr. Potter. And yes. I did. I spent most of my time studying, especially my last two years, so it was no problem. I have always enjoyed academia, after all. Now," Snape said, "What are your favorite foods?"

"Er, I don't know," Harry started, surprised with such an easy question. "I like fruit, um treacle tart, soup, I guess. Also just like basic breakfast foods. And spaghetti." Snape raised an eyebrow, causing Harry to add more on. "I like stuff like tomato and cucumber sandwiches, or turkey sandwiches. Potatoes of any variety are good. Er, toast," Harry trailed off.

"That is satisfactory. Please ask me a question and then eat more," Snape replied when it was apparent Harry had no more to offer.

"Do you own any clothes with color?" The question slipped out. It was something most students had wondered, but Harry doubted anyone had ever actually asked Professor Snape. Luckily, the man only quirked his lips. Harry busied himself with his soup regardless.

"I do indeed. Most of my robes are black, but I have a few dark blues and greens as well. My casual clothes vary from blue, green, white, grey, and, of course, black. I believe I also still own some tee shirts from my youth that have band names and designs on them. But, regardless, my clothing is primarily limited to black." Snape's pale fingers laced together, and he settled back in his chair. To Harry, this meant he should prepare for a hard question.

"So, Mr. Potter, you have come back to school this year with new clothing, new hair, a piercing, and a tattoo. Some people have found it quite alarming. Why the change?" Harry squirmed a bit. This was a more serious question, but it did not have to be. Snape though, Harry knew, could see through false explanations in a second.

"Well, sir, er, I met some people over the hols. The people you saw me with in London, well the ones that talked to you, I didn't know the other ones well," Harry started rambling. Snape bowed his head for him to continue. "Well, anyway, I met them walking past this party Nick was hosting. Like, kids all over the place, loud music, ya know? And Nick invited me in and then I started sneaking out at night to hang out with them. Nick and Mav, the girl, are really into the punk rock scene and stuff. I don't know much about it, really, but it was nice hanging out with them. Nick's family is really rich, so he just started buying me clothes and stuff to wear because my clothes were, erm, not that good. I don't know. I liked how they fit, and they made me feel diff…er better. Mav gave me the haircut and tattoos. I really like tattoos. I want loads more, I think. But, anyway, yeah. Nick and Mav gave me the makeover," Harry finished lamely.

 _Fuck. That was way too in depth of a simple fucking question. He doesn't care about all that. Though, he hasn't said anything bad about my new look and shit. Then again, I doubt he cares about appearances at all. He literally wears the same outfit every day._

"Why did you like that they made you feel different?" Snape asked, continuing to use his calm, soft voice that Harry had so rarely heard before this year. Harry groaned a bit. _Of course Snape would catch that part.  
_ Strangely, though, Harry wanted to tell him. Suddenly, he felt words pouring out of his mouth.

"Er, ya know. I knew people were going to treat me differently this year, anyway and the clothes felt like, um, I also got to be someone different. Everyone is used to me in my old clothes, going around and doing stupid, Gryffindor shite. And it felt like that part of me was over now. I'm sixteen, ya know. Things are different than when I was eleven. And now that Vold," at this Snape let out a hiss, "Now that Voldy is gone," Harry amended, "it just seems like I should also be able to do what I want, not just be what people want me to be. Like, I'm sick of being the golden boy that's just like his dad. I didn't even know my dad," Harry started speaking faster, anger tainting his tone, "So if I could put distance between the Harry that was the bloody Savior or whatever, people would have to decide if they really do like me. Unfortunately, I knew that they wouldn't anyway because every bloody year something happens that makes them actually see that I really am just a stupid, no good freak and," Harry paused, hands clenched into fists as he realized all he just spouted off.

Tentatively he looked up at Snape's face. It showed that Snape heard him. That Snape pitied him, even though he probably agreed. The man awkwardly leaned forward, "Mr. Potter, do you really believe that?" The voice was still calm, but Harry could hear the anger behind it.

"What? Listen, I didn't mean it. Anyway, it's my turn to ask a question, right? So, just, ya know, okay?" Harry felt sick. He had too much soup, maybe. Though his bowl was only half empty, with a piece of barely nibbled on bread beside it. Snape nodded, leaning back into his chair once more.

"Fuck, I don't know. What's your full name?" Harry asked, sinking back into his chair, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. _Stupid arse. Just what you need, making Snape even more curious. He needs to just leave me alone. He knows already that I'm a bad kid. He knew it the first day at Hogwarts. Why now? Why is he doing this now? Just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone. This is what happens when people get involved when they shouldn't. Next thing I know, he'll be killed for acting like he's on my side. Stop stop stop._

"Mr. Potter," Snape said firmly, making Harry's head shoot up in alarm.

"What?" He asked, a little dazed.

"You appeared to be very far away. Should we continue, or do you need a break?"

"I'm fine," Harry said stiffly. _Fine fine fine fine. Always fine._

"Very well. My full name is Severus Tobias Snape." The Potions Master eyed Harry critically, as if waiting for him to disappear back in his head.

"Tobias?" _That's such a regular middle name for a guy named Severus._

"Indeed. It is after my father, just like your name," Snape said, his voice becoming cool. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Do you not like being named after your father? Or is it that you just don't like my father?"

"I do not like being named after my father. I also did not like your father," Snape said shortly. Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. The tension from the past few minutes erupted from him, and Snape's casual dislike of fathers tipped him over. It was just for a few moments, but it felt good. He looked back at Snape, whose eyes had grown wide in what appeared to be confusion.

"Are you okay, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, sorry, sir. I'm fine," Harry replied, settling down. "Really, I'm sure," he reiterated, seeing Snape's eyebrow go up.

"Would you like one more question or should we call it a night?"

"Depends on the question, sir," Harry said, rising to the challenge. _I am not weak, Snape. I can do this._

"Do you ever use your parsletongue besides occasions when you need to defeat basilisks?" Snape's tone held a slight sneer, but Harry couldn't help but snort again.

"Just so you know, I wasn't exactly happy to fight a basilisk, but Lockhart sure wasn't going to. Anyway, the truth is that I don't often. I don't own a snake and they usually keep away from people. I used to chat with one the summer before my fourth year when I was in the garden, but my aunt killed her. Plus, ya know, Voldy made me not quite enthusiastic to show off that particular trait. But if I'm close to a snake, I have no problem talking to it. They're funny little creatures," Harry said fondly.

"That sounded remarkably like Hagrid, just then," Snape replied. Harry just smiled and shrugged. "Well, Mr. Potter, I do believe that is the most you are going to eat tonight. Tonight, as it is the full moon, I must check on Professor Lupin. Usually I would invite you to read the Runes book, or work on homework. However, I hesitate to leave a sixteen year old boy notorious for getting into trouble alone in my quarters."

Harry nodded, but felt the urge to stay in the comfy chair he was in and just doze off in front of the fireplace. Then he wouldn't have to go back to his room, where Draco would question him or people would be hanging out, making noise. Honestly, Harry wanted to sit in silence the rest of the day. It had been a loud day, and he wanted a break.

"I will see you here tomorrow evening, and if you wish you can remain to do homework. I will also see you tomorrow in the Great Hall for lunch Mr. Potter. I was easy on you today, as it was your first day, but I expect you to eat something in the Hall. Understood?"

"Yeah. Er, yes, sir," Harry said, willing himself to stand.

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Potter," Snape said, standing at walking Harry to the tapestry.

"Okay. Uh, thanks," Harry said over his shoulder as he walked out into the chilly corridor.

He dragged himself up the many flights of stairs and entered his still empty room. Harry lit a cigarette and pushed off his shoes before crawling in bed. It was still early, but Harry felt so exhausted and overwhelmed he just wanted to hide under the covers for the next year. The conversation he just had swirled in his mind and he couldn't help but pick out all the little things he should have kept to himself.

 _When have I ever told an adult anything? Except Sirius, but that doesn't count. I didn't even tell him that much. Maybe Snape slipped something into my soup. Why is he acting this way? Why isn't he done with me just like everyone else? I did it. Voldemort is gone. Everyone else is leaving me alone. Why him? Why am I actually responding to him? Why is he being nice?_

Harry banished his cigarette and pulled the covers over him. Only a few moments later, his brain shut down and he was fast asleep.

Two hours later, when he woke up gasping for air, he felt arms circle him and the smell of pine trees surrounded him. He went right back to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_Hello everyone! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I've been sick and have finals coming up. Let me know what you think! And, as always, I love suggestions. This is going to be a Drarry fic, but it will take awhile to be official even though they are both so obvious. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

11:42. Harry had spent the morning chain-smoking again. After waking up, safe and warm for the first time since…well, ever, he realized he was nuzzled against Draco Malfoy's collarbone.

He had gently rolled out of the bed, heart pounding as Draco's arms tried to keep him still. Harry grabbed his cigarettes and bolted for the bell towers (which were significantly less used than the astronomy tower). He knew the other boy had Muggle Studies this morning, so Harry had crept back into RoRi after classes started to secure some weed and apply deodorant. He didn't care that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday or that his hair was worse than usual. He just felt those familiar waves of anxiety rolling through him.

So now he was smoking his last joint before going in for lunch. He was perched just inside the Forbidden Forest and had spent the hours watching strange insects creep on the spongy forest floor. He did not want to leave. He did not want to leave and enter that state of confusion he knew would hit him.

 _Why would Draco Malfoy get in bed with me? Why would he hold me? What is he getting from this? These bloody Slytherins are screwing with my head. Why are they giving me anything?_

Harry exhaled and stood up, black spots darkening his eyes for a moment before they cleared. He threw is joint in the air, spun around, and banished it with his wand just before it hit the ground.

Feeling a bit better, at least about target practice, Harry wandered back up to the castle, watching as the sun glinted off the smooth stone. He felt better outside. It was open and light and he couldn't feel trapped with so many places to go.

Unfortunately, he reached the doors and walked inside, up the small flight of stairs, and into the Great Hall. It definitely got quieter when he stepped in. He could feel all the eyes on him, all the whispers and pointing fingers. He felt like he was going to throw up. He could not escape here.

Head down, Harry hurried to the end of the Ravenclaw table, sliding in beside Ginny and Draco. He could still feel the eyes.

"Oi, we've got the same food here as at your table, so fuckin turn around, wanker," Ginny yelled. The quiet was broken as people laughed, and one by one Harry could feel everyone turn back to their own lives.

"Thanks Gin," Harry said quietly. She grinned brightly at him.

"No problem! Now, I have a proposition for you," she said secretively, leaning in so that Hermione, who was sitting next to her, wouldn't hear.

"Alright, my friend Megan, she's muggleborn, right? Anyway, apparently, muggles like to put fruit in their alcohol because it makes the fruit completely pissed and then the muggles eat the fruit." Harry laughed at how excited Ginny sounded about such a normal occurrence.

"Anyway, my favorite fruit is cherries, so, lets get two big jars of cherries, fill 'em with like vodka, let them sit overnight, and have a competition. If I eat more, and don't throw up, you have to play a game of quidditch with me. If you win… just joking, you won't." Ginny grinned confidently as Dean and Draco laughed.

"Why are you challenging me?" Harry asked, having a hard time keeping the grin off his own face.

"Because you beat me at the party. The chugging contest. I want to win, so I'm going to," Ginny replied, a look of determination on her face.

"You know, that could end up being dangerous," Hermione had finally spoken up, a disapproving look on her face.

"Yes, but I can totally beat him in this," Ginny whined, pleadingly looking at the older girl, making everyone around snort as they buried their laughter.

"Fine, but if I have to take you to the Hospital Wing.."

"Great, I have someone to take me. Draco can take Harry. And if we die from booze cherries, it'll be a great way to go. Right, Harry?"

"Definitely my preferred way," he agreed lightly, "And yes, I accept your very intense challenge." Ginny clapped him on the back and turned back to face Hermione in order to placate her. Harry watched as Dean, Neville, and Hannah Abott started chatting about who had the better common room.

"Hey, Harry," Draco said softly, making Harry look at him for the first time. "Are you okay? You were gone before I woke up this morning."

Harry could feel his cheeks start to burn, so he simply nodded and placed a large sandwich on his plate.

"I'm sorry if I intruded," Draco continued, "But you were thrashing about and I thought you might hurt yourself. Harry, have you been putting silencing charms up the whole year?"

Harry added carrots to his plate and nodded again. He was about to reach out to put something else, anything else, on his plate, when Draco's hand delicately touched his outstretched wrist.

"Harry, don't put them up anymore. It's dangerous. Okay?"

Harry blushed deeper, and nodded once more. Draco's hand moved back and Harry heard the boy join in on the common room debate. Harry though, was frozen. He had kept silencing charms up since he first learned how to do one. And now someone wants him to stop. Even though he will be disruptive and annoying. It didn't make any sense.

Harry added mashed potatoes to his plate. And then a slice of pie, then a roll, then peas, until he felt nauseous just from looking at it.

He felt eyes on him, this time from the Head Table. He knew it was Snape without bothering to look. Harry drank some milk. Actually, he chugged the whole glass in one go.

"Harry! Why didn't you tell me! I could've chugged with you!" Ginny said angrily. Harry offered her a weak grin after wiping his face. But his stomach was roiling. He stood to go, muttering "cigarette" towards Draco when he raised his eyebrow.

And this time he walked out freely. Only to find himself throwing up bile in the same place as yesterday. Then he smoked like he did yesterday. Then he burned himself like he did yesterday, except this time he did it on his hipbone, where no one would see.

And then he calmly made his way to Transfiguration where he sat by Draco and got five points off for not wearing his robe and drawing instead of taking notes.

After finally taking notes on the Principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance in relation to the Conjuring spells, Harry left the classroom feeling more confused than he ever had in a class.

"RoRi?" Draco asked, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"'Course, but no racing. Too many cigarettes today," Harry said, grinning at his friend.

"You're pathetic, Potter," Draco teased.

"And you're pants at drawing. What the fuck were you trying to draw in there? Was it a self-portrait or a hippogriff? Honestly, Malfoy, I thought the elite class was supposed to be good at art," Harry said, fishing around for the parchment Draco had doodled on.

"Hey! That's not true. The elite are supposed to critique, the poor are supposed to create," Draco said very seriously, raising his nose in the air. Harry stopped mid-step to stare at him. Draco caught his eye and cracked, his high pitched giggling echoing in the stairwell.

"Merlin, I thought you were serious for a second," wheezed Harry, trying to keep up with Draco's fast pace while laughing.

"That's the sort of rubbish I grew up hearing, but ya know, you're at least middle class and creating, so it can't be true."

The boys broke out into more laughter as they neared the seventh floor, going the long way as usual to avoid the Gryffindor common room. They had to take the main staircases from Transfiguration instead of the back stairs like Harry tries to do.

They went into their room; Harry throwing his bag by his desk, Draco hanging it nicely off a hook he put beside his desk.

"You're disgusting, Scarhead," Draco scoffed.

"Yeah, o'course, now do you wanna quiz me or not? Or should I quiz you first?" Harry already knew the answer. Draco liked to ask the questions first so he could re-familiarize himself before being asked anything, therefore making him look more intelligent. Or so he thought.

"I'll quiz you. You have an hour, right?"

"Right, go ahead," Harry said, sitting down on his skateboard, cigarette already between his lips, rolling back and forth in front of the couch Draco decided to reside on.

"Explain the theory behind _aguamenti_ and the problems with trying to cast it in a large capacity," Draco read off, head resting back on the arm of the sofa and long legs falling all over the place.

"Alright," Harry started, wondering why he had never studied so hard with Hermione as he did these days with Draco. He shook his head, ran his hand through his messy hair, and started talking.

Ssssssss

Harry was fidgeting. The scroll on the tapestry said to walk through and have a seat, but it felt very strange to be alone in Snape's living room. He tapped his feet while straining his eyes in a sad attempt to read some of the titles of the books covering the walls. Finally, he just pulled out his DADA text and flipped through, reading ahead for class. The fire was warm and Harry liked the small window that showed grindylows and fish passing by. It was strange to think he felt so comfortable here, at least when Snape wasn't around.

 _Speak of the devil._ Snape exited a door down the small hallway, waved his wand and muttered something over the door, and glided over to his chair.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. How was your day?"

"Alright, sir," Harry replied lightly. _Completely fucking weird._

"You did not eat breakfast or lunch," Snape says slowly, annunciating his displeasure.

"Er, well, I, um," Harry faltered.

"Do not give me excuses. You will clean two cauldrons tonight for the two meals you skipped." Harry almost laughed. Two cauldrons only took ten minutes. "However, if you skip two meals tomorrow, it will be four, then eight, and so on. We will cap the number of cauldrons at twenty-four per day. So, do not skip."

 _Damn. The most I've ever clean in detention was twenty and it took three hours._

"Yes, sir."

"Now remove your glamours and we shall eat," Snape tapped his wand on the table twice, causing two steaming bowls of soup with sides of rolls to appear.

Harry sighed and dropped his glamour, glad he remember to wear a jumper to cover the small circle on his arm. He picked up a spoon and swirled the broth around, seeing carrots, chicken, and celery.

"Eat, Potter," Snape said, delicately picking up his glass of water.

Harry bowed his head and took a bite. Just like yesterday, the soup warmed and soothed him. "How long am I gonna be on soup?"

"Until you can eat a bowl full," Snape said wryly, eyebrow raised. "Now, questions?"

Harry nodded, mouth full of soup. Snape's mouth twitched. "It is your turn to ask, Potter." Harry swallowed loudly, blushing at the noise.

"Er, right. Do you like Quidditch?" _If I ask easy questions, he might too. Please go easy on me, Snape._

"Yes, I enjoy watching. I was reserve Keeper on the Slytherin team during my fifth and sixth years. I enjoyed playing, but was never particularly gifted. However, playing on the team and enjoying the game did forge friendships within my house. Now, I just like to make bets with Professor McGonagall on the games," Snape said lightly, or as light as he has ever said anything.

"You make bets on us? Isn't that, I don't know, um…"

"Friendly and advantageous. Or at least it was until you showed up, anyway. Though you seemed to get in enough last minute trouble that there was usually a chance for another team to win. Keep eating, Potter."

Harry looked back to his soup and took a few bites, but the amusement wouldn't leave his face. _Snape and McGonagall bet on us all. And Snape just almost gave me a compliment. I wonder how much money he's lost to McGonagall in the past few years. Now, Snape, just ask me an easy question._

"Mr. Potter, many professors have been wondering why you and Mr. Weasley have so severely cut your friendship. I will not tell the others, though the rumors, I can assure you, are quite fascinating. Why are you and Weasley no longer friends?"

 _Fuck you Snape. That was not easy._ Harry clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his skin.

"I already told you. He doesn't like fags," Harry bit out.

"Do not use that word in my quarters," Snape said icily. "And explain. Without. That. Word."

"That's the word he uses; that most of the school uses," Harry scowled.

"That does not make it right. That does not make them right, Potter."

Harry was angry. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want pity, certainly not from Snape. He stood up, expecting to be yelled at, but Snape just tilted his head and watched. Harry thought about leaving, but instead just paced in front of the window angrily and silently.

"Mr. Potter," Snape started, but Harry cut him off.

"I don't know why, okay. He's always been a prat whenever it came to anything that made us different. Like the bloody Triwizard Tournament, or when Dumbledore made me go horcrux hunting, or even just when I would get better grades in class. And then, last year, ya know, after I thought I finally got to have a normal life, that I would finally be able to just have regular fun that doesn't endanger my life, that after all the people that died, I could just be with my friends," Harry panted, "But no. Instead, I was an idiot and got caught kissing some stupid boy and Ron freaked out. And I thought, stupidly, that he would cool down over the summer and we could be okay. Instead, he and Seamus have recruited half the school into thinking I'm crazy and that I deserve to be made fun of and punished. So, I've tried to avoid them so they would lay off but its hard when we share classes and when I'm forced to go to lunch. They get to do whatever they want and go wherever they want. And I'm stuck in the shadows because I'm a fucking faggot."

Harry stopped and slowly turned to Snape, anger still pounding through his body.

"Mr. Potter, do not use that word." Snape's tone was deadly serious, but Harry didn't care. Snape was always deadly something.

"Why not?" He countered, throwing up his hands.

"Because, Potter, I have been called that word more times than you could imagine, usually followed by laughter or humiliation or assault. You can use another word, but not that one," Snape said coldly. He gestured to Harry's empty seat, "Sit down, and keep eating."

Harry deflated.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't, um, realize."

"Yes, well it is not something I often share. Sit down, now." Harry followed the order and picked his spoon back up and dragged it through his soup.

"Potter," Snape warned. Harry nodded and quickly took a few bites before daring to glance up at the Potions Master. The man's hair now partially obscured his face and his fingers danced along the rim of his glass as he peered into the fire.

"Um, sir, I am sorry," Harry said weakly.

"That is why you should listen when someone asks you to do something," Snape snapped before softening his voice a bit, "It is okay. Just keep it in mind. Now, the red haired menace is, in my humble opinion, is just suffering through what he usually goes through when you succeed. You defeated a famous dark wizard, earning yourself many front pages, many awards, and continued publicity due to your part in the trials. You were caught doing something that is not always socially acceptable, especially amongst ignorant youths. Weasley saw his opportunity and took it. Now he has the social capital because he accurately predicted how you would react to the shunning. What he did not expect was young Draco taking a stand and recruiting his own allies. What Weasley definitely did anticipate was his younger sister coming out and being such a strong opposition to him. The game is moving in your favor, Potter." Snape leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together.

Harry blinked. Then shut his mouth. Then opened it again. "That was the most Slytherin analysis of anything I have ever heard. And I live with Draco. But I don't think Ron is that, er, cunning. I think he just hates gays."

"Potter, I do not know much about this particular member of the Weasley family besides his grades in Potions and the mischief he has gotten into with you. Including the chess set in first year. He is cunning. He is simply driven by emotion rather than ambition. By cutting you out of his life, he tried to cut you out of his family, therefore destroying the first time you felt part of a family that you can remember. However, he miscalculated how loving the rest of the members of his family are and it backfired. Now he is angry because nothing is turning out the way he wanted and is taking it out further on you."

Harry sat in silence for a while, processing what Snape had said. He kept taking small bites of the soup, letting everything sink in. He felt sick, though. _Because it's true. How did Snape see that and I didn't? Is it really true? When did Ron become the kind of person to do something at this scale? How could he really value something stupid like popularity or whatever over me?_

"Potter, it's your turn. Also, eat your roll." Harry rolled his eyes and ripped off a bite.

"So are you actually, um…"

"Gay? Yes. Do not spread this around, obviously, just as everything else said in this room." Snape glared as if to make his point and Harry just nodded.

"Draco knows. He said his mom said you have a boyfriend," Harry said conversationally, forcing himself to be casual in the presence of the severe man who's temper he might be testing.

"Indeed. Narcissa does not know who it is and you will not find out either until such a time I and my partner deem it necessary."

They were quiet for some time as Harry worked his way through the roll. Despite the fact that Harry had just ranted about something very personal, found out something very personal from Snape, and was forced to be there, he found himself rather relaxed today. Maybe it was from a good nights sleep.

The thought made him blush.

He stuffed the rest of the roll in his mouth and chased it down with the last of his milk. A vial was then placed in front of him and he recognized it immediately as a nutrition potion. He rolled his eyes and swallowed it swiftly.

Wordlessly, Snape motioned to the small kitchenette. When Harry walked in, he slumped his shoulders and got to work on the two cauldrons perched on the sink. They were small, but it was still annoying to have to do it. He did get a good look at Snape's kitchen though. There was a shelf stacked with cookbooks over the small counter, seemingly both muggle and magical. He had a tea kettle that was on what appeared to be a small muggle stove top. He had a pot and two pans hanging from nails on one wall, a plentiful spice rack, and a few charcoal drawings of mountains on the other wall. It felt nice and lived in.

Harry finished the cauldrons and dried his hands on a faded floral (floral?) rag before returning to the sitting room where Snape was flipping through a Potions journal.

"I'm finished, sir," Harry said awkwardly. Snape motioned back to the seat so Harry plopped down, nervous about what was to come. _We ate, we played the question game, and I cleaned. What else?_

"Accio Potter's notebook," Snape said, no wand in sight. A book zoomed into his hand and Harry stared in awe.

"How did you do that without a wand?"

"The same way you levitated your classmates yesterday, Potter, and the same way you can perform non-verbal spells. Intent. Now, this notebook is yours. You may do whatever you wish to it. Draw, write, set the pages on fire, anything except not use it. I take it you know how to make things unreadable?" Harry nodded. "Good, start now."

Harry took the notebook from Snape's hands and flipped through it. It was a plain book with a light brown leather cover full of creamy blank pages.

"What happens if the journal writes back and tells me to open the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked cheekily.

"Tell it you have already defeated the King of Serpents and you're a half blood. That should shut it up," Snape replied dryly, already back to the Potions Journal. Harry snorted and picked up a quill.

" _Alright, my name is, no, I shouldn't put my full name in case someone desperately wants to read this. My name is HJ and my professor just gave me this because he thinks I'm losing my mind. He's kind of a hardass teacher but he is a good guy. Also, he's gay and so am I so I think he knows kinda whats going on. Ron hates me which only makes me hate myself more. I burned myself yesterday. And today. I used to do it a few years ago but with a knife. Everyone had turned against me then too. And at my relative's house sometimes I intentionally provoke them to get them to slap me. I don't need to do much and this past summer was rougher than usual so I didn't even want to provoke. Snape will go ballistic if he finds out I hurt myself. DM said he had to live with the bloke just because Snape thought DM might hurt himself. But that's not far from what hes doing with me. I think he thinks I have an eating disorder or something. It really just hurts to eat. Except when I'm sipping soup in here. And half the time I feel so anxious that my stomach hurts before I even eat. Especially when I'm in the Great Hall. The burns or cuts or whatever make me feel a bit better for a little while. And getting drunk or stoned. But I can't be fucked up for dinners with Snape. Even though its embarrassing, I kinda want to be able to swim with him in the mornings. I feel really weak these days. DM always beats me up the stairs. Probably doesn't help I smoke all day long. Smoking is good though. I don't know. I'm rambling. I miss Sirius. I wish he was here. I wonder how he felt about fags. And what my parents thought. Though if Snape is gay, my mum is probably fine about it. But I hope my dad and Siri weren't some of the people to call Snape a fag. I miss Lupin too. He's alive but I'm mad at him. He's someone else who abandoned me. I know I did my job. Voldy is dead, Light prevails, blah blah blah. But everything after the war is so much more confusing. Now what am I supposed to do? Anyway, my hand is cramping. I'll write more later. HJ._

Harry set the quill down, took out his wand, and made the writing invisible except a small dot to mark where he ended.

"I shall see you tomorrow Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, writing on the margins of the journal he was reading. "Do eat tomorrow and be ready to finish your potion on Thursday."

"Yes sir. Goodnight, sir," Harry said, standing and tucking the notebook under his arm. Snape's eyes flicked up to Harry's and Harry saw concern flash through them.

"Goodnight Mr. Potter."

Harry climbed the stone stairs feeling lighter than he had in the past year.

Ssssssss

"Hey Sev," Remus croaked as Severus opened the door to their bedroom.

"I brought you more tea," Severus replied, bringing the steaming mug full of medicinal herbs to his partner.

"I love you," Remus sighed, taking a sip. Severus perched on the edge of the bed, smiling slightly at the weak werewolf.

"How are you feeling?"

"Just tired and sore, love. Don't worry. How was dinner with Harry?" Remus set the mug on the side table and pulled Severus into bed beside him.

"It was okay. We are making progress, I believe. I told him that I'm gay."

"Did you tell him about us?"

"No, not until we both decide we are ready. We've informed almost all the other professors now. But I am leaving when to tell Potter up to you," Severus informed Remus. He kicked off his boots and managed to pull his robe off.

"You shouldn't sleep in pants," Remus muttered, his eyes halfway closed.

"I'll take them off when you fall asleep, wolf," Severus said affectionately, getting comfortable and pulling Remus closer so that the man's head rested on his chest. Severus ran his finger through his lover's sandy hair until Remus's breath grew heavy. He used a quick disrobing spell, summoned a quilt, and closed his eyes shortly after.


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello everyone! I'm nervous about how the characters interact in this chapter and would appreciate some feedback. Also, let me know if you want anything interesting to happen at Draco and Harry's party for next chapter! I love ideas! How are you guys feeling about the Snape/Lupin ration compared to the rest of the story? I can always add more. And incorporate other characters more, if you want. Anyway, please review and tell me how I'm doing! It means a lot. I hope you enjoy!_

4:12. Friday.

"You got dirt on your robe, Potter," Draco said as soon as Harry walked through the door of RoRi.

"You try replanting Devil's Snare without getting any dirt on you," Harry shot back, collapsing on the sofa and leaning his head back.

"Fancy a joint?"

"Snape."

"Shit. Right. Actually, I was wondering if I could come tonight. I haven't seen him outside of class much and would like to catch up. Especially after the disaster of yesterday's class," Draco sneered, lighting a cigarette. A Ravenclaw in their class had added one too many pieces of dandelion root, causing a strange show of smoke and fumes that nearly suffocated the class. Snape was not pleased.

"Oi, pass me one," Harry said, not bothering to raise his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of a white tube and reached out instantly and caught it. He lit it and inhaled deeply. "Ya know, you need to buy me some cigarettes. Where do wizards get them? It's bloody good I brought a whole fucking carton and a half with me."

"Oh shut it. We'll buy some in Hogsmeade tomorrow. Along with a very large quantity of alcohol and a bit o' weed. All you have to do is ask the barman for a carton of whatever and you get it. Did you withdraw more gold?"

"Yeah, should be here tomorrow morning. And not just bloody gold. Not everything is more than a sickle."

Draco rolled his eyes but moved from his chair to the sofa and put his feet on Harry's lap. Harry glared.

"Mate," the blonde started, his faux serious face on, "That shite on the table is probably going to kill you. It's been soaking for two days now."

Harry looked over to the two large jars of cherries steeped in vodka. It did look rather poisonous.

"Ginny would think her favorite fruit is candied cherries. I can't believe I agreed to that. She's gonna destroy me," Harry groaned. "On second thought, if you're coming with me to Snape's, lets have a joint. We still have two hours anyway."

Draco chuckled and summoned the weed and papers. Harry watched the blonde stick at his tongue as he broke down the bud and started rolling up. The boy had such beautiful sharp angles and such gentle fingers. Harry shook his head. _Don't even start._

Draco held out a fat joint with his easy grin. Harry smirked back and snatched, lighting it fast and blowing a cloud of smoke into Draco's face.

"You're such a prat!" Draco lunged for Harry, giggling madly. Harry pushed off from the sofa and ran towards the ramps, letting loose another cloud behind him.

He only made it to the top of the funbox before a hand grabbed his shoulder. His heart froze for a second and the sound dimmed, but persistant high pitched giggling made its way through. _Draco. It's Draco. Not a Death Eater. Not Vernon. Not Harry Hunting._

Harry turned back with a smile and took one last drag before Draco pinched it from him.

"You're completely rude, Scarhead," Draco puffed, but his cheeks were red from laughing. Harry suddenly noticed how close they were standing. Draco's grey eyes were full of mischief and fun though his lips were formed in a trademark pout.

Harry stepped away. And playfully rolled his eyes when he realized how quick he was to put distance between them. Draco replied with an exhale of smoke towards him.

"Alright, alright, back to the sofa," Harry chuckled. He pulled his notebook from his bag on his way, along with some charcoal sticks that RoRi had supplied.

Draco propped his feet back on his lap, but he didn't even attempt to remove them this time. Instead, in between passing the joint, Harry sketched out Draco with a joint dangling from his lip. By the time the joint was finished, Draco picked up a cigarette and continued in his pose, knowing exactly what Harry was doing.

It wasn't perfect, but as Harry gazed at the smudged marks mingling with crisp lines, he thought it was a good representation.

"Lemme see. You know I'm impatient," Draco commanded eagerly. Harry turned it around and watched Draco's eyes widen and a smile play at his lips. "It's alright, I guess. I think you could have captured my aristocratic charm a bit more."

"Oh Merlin," Harry shook his head and cast an adhesive spell to the page so the charcoal wouldn't smear. "We gotta get to Snape's soon."

"Shit. Do I look high?" Draco asked, crinkling his face up at Harry.

"No, just stupid. What about me?"

"I can't tell anymore. You're always high. Let's just have some mouthwash and head down."

The boys alternated gurgling and Harry pulled on a jumper and tucked his notebook and pencil pouch in his bag before they left. Quickly, Harry decided they were still a little bit stoned because they kept trying to slide down the railings, resulting in a few likely bruises.

Finally, they reached the tapestry and Harry walked through first. Snape was already sitting in his chair and merely arched an eyebrow and motioned to the spot Harry usually sat.

"Er, sir, actually…"

"Uncle Sev! Can I join in tonight? Please?" Draco appeared loudly behind Harry. Snape smirked.

"Dragon, you may if you keep your voice down." Draco beamed and immediately sat in the chair opposite Snape. Harry perched on the sofa, perfectly content to let Draco take charge.

"So, Uncle Sev, what do you and Potter here do during these little dinners?" Draco crossed his legs and leaned back, looking every bit at home.

"What does Mr. Potter say we do?" Snape answered back smoothly, folding his hands and glancing at Harry.

"All he says is you guys eat dinner and that sometimes he stays to do homework or read."

"That is exactly what we do," Snape stated securely. Harry exhaled, glad that even with his godson, Snape seemed to respect the privacy rule they had. "Now, Dragon, how is it living with the Gryffindor Golden boy?"

"Oi!" Harry said, but Draco waved him off.

"Potter is fun to live with. He definitely did not have study skills drilled into him like us Snakes did, but I'm working with it. Also, it is very clear McGonagall never did room checks. He's definitely messy. He doesn't own many things, but they get all over the room," Draco smirked at Harry. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I shall remember to perform a room check on you two in the near future. I am rather curious how the Room of Requirement is handling your occupation."

"RoRi is amazing. I never want to go back to the dorms. No offense, Professor," Draco bowed his head slightly, "But Blaise has been open to repairing our friendship. He sits with us occasionally and came to a meeting we had last Saturday." _A meeting? Oh, the party. Merlin, Slytherins._

"That is good to hear. Mr. Nott should not be far behind either. We will occasionally discuss your choice to live outside the Slytherin quarters, but for now it seems to be doing you good," Snape acknowledged, "And now, dinner."

The man tapped his wand on the table and three plates of grilled chicken with sides of an aromatic rice with vegetables cooked in appeared. Harry looked at Snape and raised his eyebrows. Snape merely pursed his lips and nodded. _Guess I'm off soup for the night._

They began eating, with Snape asking Draco about his grades. Finally, when they were both halfway through the meal and Harry was slowly eating his fourth bite, Snape asked about the social side of life.

"Dragon, what do you want to come of the group of ragtag allies you now seem to lead?" Harry snorted, earning glares from both of the Slytherins.

"Well, we are attempting to start a club, as a matter of fact. We fancy ourselves the "Gay Brigade" and want it to be official. We were thinking of propositioning the Headmaster for our own table in the Great Hall. We just need a teacher or two to make the club official."

"You want me," Snape stated drily. Draco grinned.

"'Course we do. You have a lot of respect around this place."

"How many people know?" Snape's tone became colder. Draco leaned forward eagerly, while Harry leaned back.

"Harry, Ginny, and Luna. But Luna already knew, of course. I just think it would be rather powerful for you, esteemed faculty and praised war hero, to come out and proudly lead our "ragtag" clan." Draco beamed at the dark man, but Snape did not smile back. _Not like anyone would expect him to._ Instead, Snape seemed to be thinking, his dark eyes roaming the room aimlessly as his fingers tapped on his armrest.

"I shall consider it. Who else are you going to ask?"

"Great! Lupin. Ginny'll ask him."

" _Professor_ Lupin. That is…acceptable. Who will be leading the group?"

"Me and Ginny will lead the gays, Longbottom will lead allies. I mean, it'll be all together, but we thought it would be good to have leaders to model behavior," Draco said, resting back into the chair confidently.

"Interesting. You realize you will have to display appropriate behavior at all times. No more, say, yelling in classrooms. You will also have to be absolutely sure you will not say anything offensive to any group of people, especially muggleborns," Snape said sternly, piercing Draco with his eyes.

Draco straightened and pursed his lips. "I won't. I've been doing really well, haven't I Harry?" Harry flinched, not expecting to be called into the conversation.

"Er, yeah. You have done really well. I never have to call you out anymore," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Snape nodded.

"Eat more, Potter," he snapped. Draco laughed. Harry glared at him. He was already getting full and his stomach was twisting.

"That's exactly how I imagined these dinners going. You're too bloody thin, Harry." Harry blushed, knowing just how much worse he was under the glamours.

Snape just softly said, "Indeed."

"So, just think about the Gay Brigade. I think it could be fun. We wanna teach defensive spells, defense only," Draco stressed at Snape's look, "And history and just have a place to talk and be safe. After Harry got the snot kicked out of him, I think it's a good idea. I've heard some younger years especially having trouble. Weasel's been corrupting the youth, so those that think they're gay or side with us, or whatever, are having a harder time."

"Don't call him Weasel," Harry said softly. Draco scoffed.

"Come on, mate, he's a total arse. I feel like calling him Weasel is the least of our worries."

"Don't," Harry said with more force.

"Urgh, whatever Harry," Draco huffed, turning away from him with an annoyed expression. Snape however, sent Harry his X-ray stare, making him hunch his shoulders. _Shouldn't have said anything. Now it'll be more Ron questions. And the past two days were definitely easier questions. Fuck._

After Draco and Snape began chatting about how the GB would be organized, Harry sat in relative peace until he heard the sound of a fork scraping against a plate. _Damn. They're both finished. I'm not even halfway through. But my stomach hurts too much to eat more. I ate berries this morning, half a sandwich at lunch, and the carrot sticks that Snape spelled into my bag during our Herbology break. Too much. It's too much. I need to throw up._

"Excuse me," Harry said, standing, "Where's your restroom?"

"No," Snape said firmly, surprising Harry and Draco. "Sit for another fifteen minutes and then you can go."

"I can bloody go now," Harry snapped, feeling his throat start to burn. Snape gazed at him harshly, but finally stood.

"Follow me. Draco, stay." The man turned and headed into his kitchenette, ignoring Draco's bewildered look.

As soon as they entered the kitchen Harry ran to the sink and began vomiting harshly, shame pouring into him. He shuddered violently as he started spitting up bile, throat burning intensely, only stopping when a soothing hand lightly rubbed his back. Harry weakly straightened his arms and took a deep inhale.

"Sit," the hand on his back steered him to a transfigured chair. Harry plopped onto it, head in hands and cheeks flaming red. In the background he could hear a muffled " _evanesco" and "scourgify,"_ only increasing his embarrassment. Harry looked up when he saw motion near him out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't mean to. Really, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for being disrespectful, I just didn't want to throw up in front of everyone," Harry hung his head.

"Mr. Potter," Snape began softly, "It is not your fault. I am sorry. I did not realize at first that it was unstoppable. I placed a swift silencing charm so Draco would not hear. You have no reason to be embarrassed. I take it you ate your snack today as well as breakfast and lunch?"

"Yes sir, it was too much, I think," Harry muttered. _I've been trying to be good. I can never be good. I ruined it.  
_

"It is okay. On Monday I will have a lighter meal prepared. Now, let us return to the young Malfoy. If you will let me, I can do a mouth freshening charm on you but it does not feel very pleasant." Snape took a step back and let Harry rise from the chair.

"The charm will be good, please, sir."

"Very well, open your mouth," Snape said. Harry did as asked a moment later heard, " _mundare dentium."_ A painfully peppermint flavor overwhelmed his mouth while his teeth felt like they were being brushed with tremendous strength.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said after he felt like he could speak.

"Of course. When we go back into the living room, act like I just scolded you," Snape smirked and cancelled the silencing charm before walking back into the sitting room. Harry followed, not having to pretend very hard to act subdued and embarrassed. Draco shot him a mocking smile and Harry glared back.

"Now, you two, are you planning to get into trouble at Hogsmeade this weekend?" Snape asked, delicately crossing his ankle over his knee and steepling his fingers.

"Sir, we obviously do not try to get in trouble," Draco snarked.

"Ah, but you do get into mischief and find yourselves with detentions, lost points, and the anger of your professors," Snape shot back. Draco chuckled good-naturedly.

"Very true. But we should be fine tomorrow. Just going to stock up on candy and such," Draco shrugged.

"'And such' seems to be the key words," Snape drawled.

"Speaking of, can we smoke in here Uncle Sev?" Harry put his head in his hands. How did Draco get away with being this forward with the strictest professor in the school?

"Do you know the ventilation charm?"

"Of course! You taught it to me!" Draco scoffed before turning to Harry and nodding. Harry reluctantly pulled out his pack of cigarettes and handed one to Draco.  
"Would you like one, sir?" Harry asked timidly.

"I should not," the dark man said stiffly.

"Well that's a first," Draco laughed. Harry looked at him, confused. "This man has been chain smoking for years. I have never seen him out of school without a cigarette in his hand. Every time my mother forced him to an event, he spent the whole time on the balcony smoking. Used to drive mum mad," Draco said, grinning widely before lighting his own cigarette.

"These days I cannot smoke as much," Snape motioned towards his neck briefly with a grimace on his face.

"Right, sorry sir," Draco replied, casting a ventilation charm for both Harry and himself and lighting up. He lounged back again, looking at ease and with a playful smirk. "So, Mother tells me you're seeing someone."

"Yes," Snape said coldly.

"So, who is it?"

"I will not tell you."

"C'mon Uncle Sev! You never date anyone long enough for me to meet him. This one is! Mum said you've been dating for ages!" Draco complained pathetically.

"Stop your whinging. It is not just my personal business, but also my partner's. I will not tell you until we are both adequately comfortable with coming out to the whole of Hogwarts, especially since you are quite the gossip," Snape snapped. Draco immediately went into full pout mode, making Snape sigh. "I assure you that you will be the first student I tell."

"You promise?" Draco had perked up at hearing he would receive special treatment, making Harry shake his head at the blonde's cute and child-like behavior.

"Indeed, Dragon."

"What's with calling him Dragon?" Harry asked, finally contributing.

"Potter, you've been learning Latin-based magic for over five years and you cannot figure out that Draco is Latin for dragon?" Snape asked wryly, sending him a look that clearly told Harry that he was a complete dunderhead.

"Er, right. Yeah," Harry sank back into his seat and focused on finishing his cigarette. It felt like he was intruding on a family. Like he always intruded on the Dursleys. They had nicknames and background and a sort of playfulness that Harry would have never expected out of Snape. The man even seemed to give in to Draco's whims and emotions. _Draco should just have dinner with Snape. They get on much better and I clearly am just the idiot in the corner. Best to just keep my bloody mouth shut before I say anything else stupid and intrude on family bonding time. I clearly can not take part._ Then Harry had an idea and banished the cigarette.

"May I use the restroom now?" Snape shot him a glare, but nodded and motioned to a door through the hallway. As Harry walked, he heard him mutter a summoning charm for a chess set.

Once the door was securely locked, Harry pulled his spare potions knife from his pocket, resized it to normal, and pulled off his jumper. After removing his glamour, he watched, mesmerized in the mirror, as he slit a shallow cut across his upper arm. Then just one more. Small droplets of blood trickled down, but Harry quickly wiped them away. They were such superficial cuts that they stopped bleeding after the initial moments, so Harry just replaced his glamour and pulled his jumper back over his head, happy he had chosen his dark blue one. He re-shrunk the knife and placed it delicately in his pocket, wrapped in a bandana.

He felt better. His heart felt like it could do its job. His chest felt open. His lungs felt clear. He stood up a bit straighter. _I'm so glad I found this old knife instead of using a cigarette. This is cleaner, sharper, brighter._ Harry felt like he could feel his blood rushing throughout his body gleefully. _And it only took a few minutes._

Harry emerged, masking the relief he now felt, and took a seat. Snape and Draco were fully emerged in their game, so Harry pulled out his sketchbook and pencil pouch and began to draw.

After an hour had passed, Snape was victorious and Harry had a delicate drawing of Snape and Draco's hands with a background of chess pieces.

"It is getting close to curfew. I would recommend returning to your room," Snape said, clearing the table of the game with a flick of his wand.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Uncle Sev," Draco grinned, standing.

"Of course," Snape nodded. Harry stood, feeling that tension rise back up. _You're the one out of place and no one wants you here. You're not a part of it. You're not a part of anything or any family. Get over it._ He stood and put his bag over his shoulder.

"Thank you sir," Harry said, looking at the floor. He moved to the tapestry as Draco gave Snape a one armed hug. _And Snape even returned it. Bloody hell._ Harry felt his chest start to hurt again. He hurried through the tapestry, feeling eyes following him.

After a moment by himself in the damp dungeons, Draco caught up.

"Thanks mate, for letting me come. It was nice to chat with him," the blonde said sincerely. Harry's chest relaxed just a bit as he saw the genuine emotion in the grey eyes.

"'Course. Gets him off my back a bit," Harry forced a grin. They trotted back to RoRi and began some homework. Most of it, Harry was surprised to see, was already complete. _Draco's just been rubbing off on me._ He blushed at the thought, but turned his attention to his tedious Potions essay due on Monday. They knew that since there would be a small party tomorrow, along with Hogsmeade, it would be better to start it now instead of when they were painfully hungover.

Draco was working at his desk, the rooms lighting softening his features a bit. Harry admitted to himself that he liked the blonde like this; the focused, academic, hardworking side of the boy that became gentle and playful despite his impatience and cockiness. It felt real and intimate. _I wonder how many other people know about this Draco._

Three hours later, after some essay comparisons and a drink and joint, the boys went to their separate beds. Draco seemed too tired to change and instead just peeled off his shirt and climbed under his sheets while Harry used the door to his wardrobe to hide his body as he put on a Dudley tee and removed his jeans.

After a murmured goodnight, they both slept.

Sssssssss

 _Harry was pulling desperately at the locked door, knowing that whatever was behind him was getting closer. The door would not budge and Harry's wand appeared in his hand, snapped in half. Desperately, Harry ran around the side of the home, peering into windows._

 _At last, he found one with a light on and peeked in. His parents, Sirius, Lupin, Snape, and Draco were sitting around a dinner table, enjoying a feast. Harry's heart leapt. He pounded on the window and screamed and waved and pounded his fist again and again, hoping the glass would crack or that someone would look up._

 _The dark tendrils he had felt following him were closer, closer, on him, wrapping around his chest and legs. Too tight. He beat his fist on the glass until he saw dark red smudges appear._

 _Sirius looked up. Harry filled with hope as his godfather approached the window, the man's smile giving Harry warmth._

" _Let me in," Harry gasped, "Help me." The tendrils were wrapping tighter and tighter. Darkness was clouding his eyes, but he saw Sirius mouth the words, "You lost us. You'll never have us. Goodbye, Harry."_

 _The tendrils snapped tight._

With a gasp, Harry sat straight up, wheezing and confused.

"Calm down, Harry, its okay, just breathe," said a soft voice. Hands rubbed his back, reminding him of Snape's actions when he vomited earlier. _Snape can't be here. I'm in my room._ Harry addled, but remembered he was at Hogwarts and he shared his room. _Right, Draco._ He tried to listen to what the blonde was saying, but couldn't quite piece it together. The hands gently pushed him back into his pillow and Harry let his heavy eyes drift shut. He felt the bed shift and a weight move in behind him.

Harry slept. He was safe.


	15. Chapter 15

_Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I just finished finals so now I can write more, thankfully. Let me know how you feel about his friends and their interactions. I get nervous writing Hermione which is why I haven't included her often. Please let me know how you think things are going! Enjoy!_

12:02. "You're gonna die," Draco murmured. Harry inhaled deeply on his joint. The containers of cherries awaited him. "If you don't make it, I'm keeping all your shit."

"Thanks mate," Harry exhaled the smoke. He had snorted some Adderall and been smoking large amounts of weed all day to soothe his stomach. He'd only had two shots of vodka so far.

The red jars were looking menacing in the dimly lit room.

The party was smaller than last time. It was mostly people in fifth and sixth year that were closer friends with Harry, Draco, or Ginny.

A lot more people were betting Ginny would beat Harry this time. Harry didn't blame them.

Draco lazily put an arm around his shoulder, cleared his throat, and began his announcement.

"Well, Ladies and Gentlemen and Everyone else, it seems there is another competition underway between two idiotic Gryffindors. Miss Weasley, please step up."

Ginny eagerly sauntered to Harry and Draco, a impish look on her face.

"These two have decided to attempt to each eat as many cherries as they can from those positively disgusting jars that have been filled with alcohol for far too long. They will begin in five minutes, so if you haven't placed a wager, come see me or Miss Parkinson."

Draco clapped both Harry and Ginny on the back and made his way to the queue forming around Pansy.

Harry lit another joint. _Why the fuck would I agree to a competition that involves eating? I can barely hold down the bleeding carrot sticks Snape gives me for snacks._ While exhaling, Harry glanced at Ginny. She looked a lot like her brothers, but just a tad softer around the hips, chest, and face. She was tall, with broad shoulders resembling the twins, tanned and freckly skin, and looked at the peak of physical fitness.

Harry was short, maybe only an inch or two taller than Ginny. Under his glamours were dark circles around his eyes, made a bit better because of Draco. He was grossly thin, just a delicate covering of body fat over bone and weakening muscle. Luckily no one but Snape saw that.

He knew he had no chance in this competition. Hermione had wandered over with Luna and Dean and they were circling Ginny and the cherries. Hermione's lips were pursed, but Ginny was attempting to make her laugh.

Like usual.

It was no secret that Ginny had a thing for the older girl. Everyone except Hermione noticed it. Ginny tried to be discreet, but her face lit up around her and she sought out her attention as often as possible.

Luna was still around constantly, but with the new group forming for the Gay Brigade, she was invited to study sessions and get-together more often by more than just Ginny. Plus she usually spent half her free time wandering the edges of the Lake and Forbidden Forest.

Hermione glanced up at Harry and smiled while shaking her head, clearly telling him he's an idiot for doing this. Harry grinned back.

Draco appeared again, dragging Ginny along, and stood them across from eachother at the table.

"Alright, shake hands you two," he started. Harry and Ginny shook hands, Ginny grinning competitively. "So, rules are; first to stop eating for more than thirty seconds loses, first to throw up loses, and first to eat whole jar wins."

The small crowd cheers and Ginny raises her arms, eliciting more cheers.

"You okay?" Draco whispers into Harry's ear, the blonde blocking Harry off from the crowd slightly. The warm breath sends chills up Harry's back, but he pushes it away and takes a deep breath. He knows Draco is drunk though. He's been chugging all night for some reason.

"I'll be fine, Draco. Don't worry. It's just a silly competition." Draco nods and steps back, turning to face everyone else again.

"Here we go. On the count of three, start eating," Draco announced, slurring just a bit. Harry and Ginny nodded at each other. "One, Two," Ginny bent low, ready to go, "Three!"

Harry and Ginny both plunged their hands into the jars, pulling out handfuls of cherries. The smell was sickly sweet and the jars were freezing cold due to a charm Draco had placed. Harry stuffed the first two in his mouth and immediately gagged. "Bloody hell, this is gross."

Sickly sweet didn't begin to describe it. The cherries were heavy with vodka and Harry immediately wanted to spit them out. He popped another in his mouth and glanced at Ginny who was probably on her sixth. There were about fifty in a jar.

 _No fucking way am I gonna eat that many. We are totally going to get alcohol poisoning._ Harry stuffed a handful of eight in his mouth and swallowed them almost whole. His stomach lurched.

Even Ginny was slowing down now. She caught his eye and grimaced. Harry glared at her and shook his head. People were laughing and cheering them on.

Reluctantly, Harry ate two more. Ginny was far ahead and he knew he would throw up before he caught up. Time to call it quits.

Harry stepped away from the table, holding his hands up. Cheers went up around him and Draco grabbed Ginny's arm and held it up in victory.

"Thank Merlin you stopped then," she said, her voice a tad slurred already, "I don't think I could have lasted longer without throwing up." Harry couldn't respond. His stomach was turning violently. He nodded and forced a smile.

"Everyone, come see me or Parkinson about collecting your winnings!" Draco shouted above the cheers. A crowd began forming around Draco and Ginny, and Harry ducked through and walked to the bathroom, head ducked.

He could feel it rising through his stomach; syrupy bile climbing. He shut the door and locked it before leaning over the toilet. After a minute, he spat out the last of bright red saliva coating his throat. His stomach ached when he stood up straight. Harry drank water from the faucet and tried to scrub away his bright red hands. The cherries seemed to have stained them pretty well though.

Harry groaned and splashed water on his face. His glamour fell, revealing his ghostly face. "Damnit." He put it back up, grinned painfully at his reflection, and walked back into the party.

Immediately, Draco called him over to where he was sitting with Zabini and Dean. Harry lit a cigarette on the way over, letting the harshness of the smoke travel through his aching throat.

"Oi, mate, wanna roll one up?" Draco asked, standing abruptly and swinging an arm around Harry. Harry cringed, but steadied the blonde. _What has he been drinking?_

"Sure thing, Draco. Why don't I make you a drink too?"

"You're the best, Potter," Draco said, sinking back onto the sofa. Harry exchanged a raised eyebrow with Dean who just smirked and mouthed "shots."

Harry poured a big glass of water and added a few drops of cranberry juice. "Here you go, Draco. Drink it slow, it's strong." Draco nodded seriously but took a large gulp anyway.

"This is good Harry," he said earnestly. Harry nodded and turned to sit on the couch and roll a joint. Zabini put a beer in front of him, making Harry look up in surprise. The other Slytherins, while not mean to him, typically just ignored him.

"Good job with that drink you made him," Blaise winked, "He wouldn't take anything we gave him."

"Er, of course. Cheers," Harry raised his beer and tapped it with Blaise's. "Do you smoke?" He held up a joint and lit it with his wand. After he inhaled, he passed it to Zabini.

"Thanks, Potter," the dark boy said, breathing in. Draco put his feet across Harry's lap, a normal pose for the two of them during downtime. However, Draco looked very drunk. Even his hair was out of place and his cheeks were especially rosy.

Harry kind of figured this would happen. They had gone to Hogsmeade this morning, gathered a large amount of party supplies that could last to Halloween. Two bottles each of vodka, tequila, and firewhiskey, three cases of beer, and a few bottles of wine and champagne. On their party cards, this time only showing to a smaller group of people, they said to bring own alcohol or be willing to pay to use Draco and Harry's.

When they had gotten back to RoRi, Draco had immediately started drinking, though it was only three in the afternoon. He had gotten an owl that morning when he dragged Harry to breakfast so Harry could get his own owl back from Gringotts. The blonde had taken one look at it and set it on fire at the table. And then refused to speak about it. Draco had then forcibly had fun in Hogsmeade, gotten the party supplies, and started early.

Harry had had a beer with him in the afternoon, but mostly just smoked an inordinate amount of weed. His stomach had hurt all day and he knew this stupid challenge was coming up. He was just glad all that saccharine alcohol was out for now.

Ginny, on the other hand, was quite wasted, Harry noted as he looked around the room. Neville and Hermione were guarding the red head cautiously as she danced with Luna, who seemed to not notice anything wrong. Hannah Abbot was leaning on Neville, smiling slightly, and Harry felt a twinge of jealousy.

He turned away and focused on the giggly blonde boy on the other side of the sofa. He was still sipping the water, _thank Merlin._ Harry took a sip of his beer and rolled another joint since it seemed that Dean and Zabini had taken possession of the other one.

Harry forced himself to have a conversation with the two boys, following the talk loosely and focusing on smoking the joint to the end. Zabini seemed intelligent and Dean managed to make the stern Slytherin smile. When he put out the joint, he glanced at Draco and noticed the boy almost asleep, his cup dripping water onto the floor.

He took a deep breath and leaned over and grabbed Draco's shoulder, pulling him into a sitting position.

"Hey! I was comfy," Draco pouted.

"Keep drinking," Harry said, feeling uncomfortably in charge. Usually Draco was the one that was leading the group and controlling the vibe. Now, thought, the boy leaned against him, head on Harry's shoulder, and sipped his water.

Luckily, it seemed as though the party was winding down. It was almost 2, and people were mostly sitting around, playing poker or smoking. Ginny, Harry noted, was being put to bed by Hermione in Draco's bed. Harry snickered.

Then realized that he would have to put Draco in his bed because there is no way the prat would take kindly to waking up in a hammock.

After another joint, Harry stood and rounded up the remaining people, telling them to ask for a hammock or sneak back to the dorms. Luckily, everyone was agreeable and soon the room was full of hammocks and snoring students. Blaise had decided to sneak back into the dungeons, but everyone else stayed. Pansy and Hermione both managed to squeeze in beside Ginny, Hannah Abott apparently asked for a cot that she and Neville were already asleep on, and Dean had fallen asleep in his chair.

Harry peered around the room, feeling the darkness creep in from the corners. He was still lonely. There were people asleep all over the place and Harry still felt like he was the only person around.

He thought about Snape suddenly, wishing he was sitting in the man's living room where nothing could hurt him and there was someone to protect him or make him acknowledge his own existence. It was crushing in here. At least, without Draco it is.

Draco and Snape were both protective it seemed, though in different ways. Draco was aggressively so and would actively do things to make people leave Harry alone. Snape just was. Harry couldn't explain it. The man had saved him so many times and even now that the greatest threat against him is gone, Snape is still standing in the shadows, ensuring safety, even against himself.

 _Not really in the shadows anymore. I do have dinner with him every night. And now that he's out of those shadows, he certainly has amped it up._

Harry shook his head and looked at his slumbering friend. His chest tightened just a little when he saw the boy's pink lips parted, blonde hair messily in his face, and shirt just a little wrinkled. _Beautiful._

 _Not allowed. Not allowed. He's your best friend, somehow. Don't ruin it. What would you do if he got creeped out by you? You'd have no one._

Harry's head was starting to hurt. The room felt colder. And darker. His throat felt raw. Harry felt unsteady in his body. It was late, he knew, but when he cast a _tempus_ , Harry was shocked to realize it was approaching 4 AM.

It had been a relaxed party. Everyone just hung out and got fucked up somewhat calmly. Looking back, though, Harry had separated himself even from this group of people. He spent the whole party perching in the vicinity of Draco or Hermione (and by default, Ginny), but rarely engaged thoroughly in anything besides joint rolling and the stupid cherry competition.

 _I really am just fading. Draco and Hermione and Ginny and even Snape are keeping me tied here, but if not, I would have already disappeared. I barely exist. At least it is rather peaceful. Though maybe its because its so empty._

 _Draco makes me smile and makes me talk. Hermione makes me think. Ginny makes me laugh and challenges me. Snape makes me continue existing, physically and mentally through food and that bloody question game. And my journal._

Harry shakily stood, his vision acting a bit fuzzy. He grabbed his journal from his bag and unsealed it. Gathering his charcoal, Harry did a very rough sketch of the room with hammocks hanging from the ceiling, empty bottles on every surface, Dean snoring in a chair, and the shadows creeping in from the corners.

Harry did it quickly, not trying to be precise at all, but after he finished he felt completely exhausted. He floated Draco into his bed, taking off shoes and tucking in the blonde. Harry glanced at the sofa. Then back at Draco's bed longingly. He shook his head.

"Can I have blankets?" Harry whispered to the room.

A thick quilt appeared on the sofa and Harry crawled under it, relishing in its warmth. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

And a few more.

Thirty minutes later, Harry wanted to scream. He couldn't sleep here, not with so many people around, each making their own little noises. Usually, when he was drunk, he could sleep wherever, but tonight he felt on edge. Every sound was predicting doom. Someone, probably Neville, was snoring, and Harry gripped his quilt, whispering "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts," just to make sure he remembered.

 _Why is everything so much worse this year._ Tears of frustration popped into the corners of his eyes. _Why is everything so much harder? Why can't I just put it all behind me like I used to?_

Stomach tight, Harry stood and gathered the quilt around him. He left RoRi and headed down the stairs, the castle dark and still at this early hour. He had no destination in mind, was just trying to find somewhere to stay the night where he wouldn't be bothered come morning.

His legs were tired and his arms felt heavy. The quilt added a pleasant weight though, and he wrapped it tighter as he started feeling chillier. Harry felt dizzy as he continued walking, nearly tripping over the quilt on the stairs.

By the time he stopped walking, Harry was very disoriented. He knew he hadn't been that drunk when he started walking, but he felt a bit sick now. He was just so tired. His head was halfway buried in the quilt. He reluctantly pulled it out to survey his surroundings.

He was in front of that tapestry. There was a raven in the tree, head tucked under its wing. And there was a stag, head weighted down in the center.

Harry sighed, willing himself not to reach out and walk through. _It would be so nice though. The only person in there is Snape, not fifteen bloody loud students. It's safe. Just walk through and crash on the sofa._

 _And then what? Be murdered by Snape in the morning? He likes his privacy. Just because I know how to get in and know that the wards will allow me in, does not mean he won't pickle my brain and use my heart for potion experiments. He lets me have dinner. No, fuck. He FORCES me to have dinner. He doesn't want me the rest of the time. He's just making sure I don't starve to death. He would not be pleased to find me snoring on his sofa._

 _No. Nope. Need to find somewhere else._

Close to crying again, Harry turned from the tapestry and headed further into the damp dungeons. After what felt like a mile to Harry, he looked in one unlocked door and found, instead of classrooms or false doors, what appeared to be an old potions cupboard. It was dusty, but Harry could easily lie on the floor.

A halfhearted _scurgify_ later, he was tucked in on the stone floor, eyes closed and feeling safe and contained in the old cupboard. He curled tighter, reminded himself that no one knew he was here, no one could get him, and let himself sleep.

Ssssssssssssssssss

6:41 AM. Harry woke with a start, slamming his head into the shelf over him. _Fuuck. Where am I?_ He groggily propped himself on his elbows and adjusted his glasses. It was dark, so he cast a gentle _lumos._

 _Great, my dumb ass decided to sleep in a cupboard. That's not suspicious at all._ Harry groaned and rolled over, climbing to his knees and cracking the door open. Grey everything, dim lighting, cold. Dungeons. Harry quickly unwrapped himself from the quilt and tried to roll it up into a small ball.

Harry ducked his head and entered the hallway, subtly looking around to figure out where he was. _Shit. This nondescript grey wall leads to another nondescript grey wall._

Harry pulled out his wand and muttered " _Point me Snape's office."_ His wand spun on his palm a moment and then pointed to the left, then veer right, then straight and straight, then left. Finally, he recognized the tapestry and paused for a second in front of it.

"Do you need to speak with me, Mr. Potter?" Snape's deep voice echoed behind Harry. He whirled around, quilt flying out of his arms in surprise. There he stood, in black sweatpants and a black tee shirt, obviously just back from swimming.

"Er, sorry, no sir. I was just, erm, walking," Harry knelt to the ground and gathered up the quilt.

"Indeed. Did you sleep in the dungeons? I do not know any Slytherin but Draco that would let you in, and I do not believe he knows the updated password. So, were you sleeping in the corridors, I presume," Snape raised a dangerous eyebrow and motioned towards the tapestry.

"Sir, it was okay! I slept in a, erm, storage room. It was perfectly safe," Harry pleaded, not in the mood for a detention. He only got about three hours of sleep and was feeling especially delicate.

Snape motioned again, eyes hard, and Harry complied. Snape stepped in right after him and told him to sit before disappearing into a back room. When he came back moments later, he had a jumper on and had put his hair down.

The man tapped the table, making two bowls of oatmeal with fruit to appear.

"Er, can I have coffee?" Snape nodded and tapped again. Harry greedily grabbed the mug and sipped, desperate for something to make him feel ready to have a conversation.

"So, Mr. Potter, why were you sleeping in an abandoned room in the dungeons? Did something occur between yourself and Draco?"

"No, sir," Harry mumbled, taking another sip of coffee and avoiding looking at the man. He felt on edge.

"Well, then what drove you to sleep under just a quilt in the coldest part of the castle?" Snape laced his fingers together, but without the billowing cloak it was not quite as intimidating.

Harry sighed and gave in. _It's not like he wouldn't figure it out anyway._ "There was a small gathering last night and people slept in RoRi and with so many people I couldn't fall asleep so I wandered around and then found that room so, erm, yeah. It was totally good, though. I mean, it was, er, fine."

"I doubt it," Snape sneered. Harry snapped his eyes upward. It had been awhile since the Potions Master had used such a cold voice on him. The man's black eyes were hard and his thin lips were pressed tightly.

"Sir?" Harry asked, shrinking in on himself. Snape stood abruptly, startling Harry further.

"You are a bumbling fool, Potter," Snape said, pacing in front of the fire. "Do you really believe it is a good idea for you to spend the night in a rarely ventured part of the castle after consuming Merlin knows how much alcohol and drugs? What if you had alcohol poisoning? What if you stumbled down the stairs and broke something? What if you hit your head and didn't wake?"

Harry had stopped cowering, but instead was feeling very guilty and very ashamed. The only thing he could relate it to was when Mrs. Weasley would get mad at him for doing something stupid like flying a car to Hogwarts. But that was different. Mrs. Weasley loved him and cared about him. Snape did not.

 _He just doesn't want to be responsible for my death._ Snape approached Harry slowly, face tight and serious.

"For Slytherin's sake, Potter, you are the only student to have access to my wards and you did not think to knock? You came all the way to the dungeons to sleep in a store room when you have access to somewhere safe to sleep?"

"Well what do you expect?" Harry suddenly felt angry and his voice raised dangerously. "What would you do if you found me asleep in your quarters without permission? At the very least I thought it would an eternity in detention. And being yelled at, but I didn't even get to skip that part. Don't act you like give a fuck about what happens to me," Harry finished with a yell. He didn't even notice he had stood up.

He immediately took a few steps away from Snape, face paling drastically. Snape had stopped moving and was instead just staring at Harry, arms crossed and hair hanging halfway in his face.

"Is that what you think, Potter?" Snape icily whispered. Harry took another step back, feeling the threat of danger between them. "You think that I would invite you into my home every day if I did not care? I know you are struggling, I know you are depressed, I even know you do not understand the concept of adults caring about your true well being, but even through that you cannot be so blind that you cannot see that I am trying to help you of my own accord, even though I do not have to. But fine, think what you will. Tomorrow night you will be here for dinner. Now, go, you are dismissed," Snape waved Harry off coldly, making him feel sick to his stomach.

Just as he was about to pass through the tapestry, Harry heard Snape call him once more and paused. "Potter, take a shower. You reek."

He nodded and stepped out to the hallway, feeling lost and sick and very, very confused. He didn't even know where to go, so he just walked around and corner and slid to the floor. When he realized he was crying, he didn't even try to wipe the tears away, just let them roll down his cheeks.

Then he stood, feeling a resurgence of anger. It was consuming him, along with all those other things he had felt when Snape, bloody Snape, had stood there and told him that he cared about what happened to him.

He punched the wall. Then again, and again, until the pain in his hands outweighed his mind.

Sliding back down, Harry examined them with a numb disbelief. His glamour had dropped while he did it, scarily, and he saw the throbbing and bleeding knuckles. At least one had to be broken.

It made Harry feel a little proud.


	16. Chapter 16

_Hello everyone! Please give me some reviews/feedback and let me know if I'm doing okay or if you have any suggestions. This is a long one. Enjoy!_

Monday. 7:45 AM. "What on Earth is his problem this morning?" Severus heard McGonagall whisper to Remus. _As if that needed whispering. Albus is out and she is sitting right next to me, with Remus on my other side. So discreet._

"Don't ask me, Minerva. He has barely said a word since yesterday," Remus said, thankfully at a normal voice level. Severus knew it was also to irritate him into speaking, but instead he just shot a scowl at each of them.

It was true though. Severus was keeping silent so he did not start berating everyone around him. He felt completely inadequate for the emotions that were strangling him at the moment and had no idea of how to handle them in a responsible, mature way that would not make Remus get pissed off.

He had been reckless yesterday and admitted something he had not even fully figured out. But these feelings that come along with _caring_ about the Potter brat were not easy and they brought large amounts of responsibilities with them.

Never once in his life had Severus ever thought of himself as paternal. But the absolute rage he felt at Potter for being such a dimwitted fool made him reconsider. He felt almost like Molly. The thought alone made him want to throw his cup of coffee at the wall. _I am completely unfit. All I'm trying to do is make him stay alive and let him have somewhere safe in this bloody, hormone filled castle of teenagers._

Severus knew that it was not the first time he had felt that protective rage over the boy and his complete lack of self-preservation, but it was the first time it felt much more personal. _The boy walked to the dungeons, drunk, looking for somewhere to stay. He walked right past my quarters which he knows is a safe place and slept on the floor in some old room._

Another voice appeared in Severus' head, reminding him of the past. _Can you really blame the boy? He spent five years thinking you were out to get him and just saving his life out of obligation._

 _It_ was _out of obligation._

 _Well now its not but he doesn't know that. He doesn't understand anything that is happening. All he knows is that his old best friend dropped him, he's a social outcast…_

 _Not that he's trying to change that._

 _And that someone who used to clearly despise him is now trying to take care of him. He's scared. He wants someone to do that, but he doesn't think it will last, he doesn't think you mean it, and most of all, he doesn't think he deserves it._

Snape put his head in his hands.

"What is going on Severus," Minerva asked, concern creeping into her stern voice. He waved his hand loosely. He had no idea what to say.

"Fine then," the Transfiguration professor said sharply, "Remus, when are you two going to publicly acknowledge your _two year long_ relationship?"

Remus chuckled and discreetly placed a hand on Severus' thigh. He sneered at the werewolf, feeling the touch interrupt his order of thinking. Which is probably what Remus wanted to do anyway.

"We were thinking at the start of the new term. Let everyone see we can work well together and that it won't affect our job. Regardless, most professors know already except ones that don't come for meals or show for meetings. But these children are quick with an owl to parents."

"That is a smart idea, Remus," Minerva approved. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Remus blush.

"It was Severus', of course." The hand on his thigh squeezed tightly twice and then let go, back to the fork. Severus looked at his own plate with disdain.

Without realizing it, he had turned the toast into crumbs with his fingers. Instead, he stabbed at a strawberry with his fork and pushed the eggs away from him.

He peered out over the students, knowing he would not find who he was looking for. Severus would just have to pop down to the kitchens and ask if the boys had gotten food that morning.

Then he would go to class and teach idiotic second years. Then grade papers followed by lunch where he would make sure the brat ate. Then class. Then another class. And then dinner, where he had no idea what he was going to say or do.

 _How on Earth am I supposed to acknowledge that I care for the child without acting like a sentimental fool? Maybe I shall just ignore it and return to our typical dinner routines._ Severus' hands turned into fists. _When did I turn into such a sentimental fool that I have to remind myself not to be one?_

Severus glanced at his watch and realized there was only twenty minutes left of breakfast. Leaving early was frowned upon, but he had exhausted his ability to sit up here long ago. He stood abruptly and shook off Minerva and Remus' words before taking the back door to the staircase. He had forty minutes before his next class and he desperately needed to calm himself.

Remembering his mind healer's words, Severus entered his office and sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying his mind piece by piece. Once it was clear, he closed his eyes and breathed slowly while relaxing his muscles.

Only when he heard the sounds of chairs scraping and petulant voices did Severus come out of his meditation, feeling much more focused and present than he has in two days.

Adjusting his cloak, he stepped out of his office and glowered at the little idiots, feeling prepared for the day.

Sssssssss

11:45. Harry blew smoke out into the wind and ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. He had been up until 5, rehashing the events of the morning and feeling the ball of stress ache in his stomach. No matter what he did, what position he layed in or how much weed he smoked, he could not fall asleep.

Finally, just before 5, Harry walked into the bathroom and dragged his potions knife unsteadily against his thigh. His throbbing hand had trouble holding it and it dipped a little deeper than usual, but it quickly released the tension in his stomach and he drifted off to sleep, still bleeding slightly.

And now here he was, on a fourth floor balcony smoking his fourth joint of the day and putting off going to lunch. Harry rummaged through his bag, ignoring the container of fruit, and pulled out an old Weasley jumper; the one with the Hungarian Horntail on it. Before putting it on, he finished the joint and made a small cut on his upper arm, not even bothering to take off his glamour to watch the beads of blood. He just pulled on the jumper and took a swig from his water bottle that was currently filled with tequila.

He had been taking sips all morning, allowing the alcohol to soothe him since he couldn't very well cut all day long. But now he had lunch, then Double Potions.

Harry sighed and undid the disillusionment charm around the balcony before stepping back through to the corridor. He joined the sea of students headed to lunch, keeping his head down and trying not to be noticed.

When he finally slid into his seat between Draco and Ginny, Harry was craving solitude once more. As usual, the noise in the Great Hall was unbearable and people were _still_ shooting him looks.

"Oi, Cherry Cherry, did you do your History of Magic homework?" A fifth year Gryffindor Harry had never taken much notice of had leaned across the table to chat with Ginny.

"Barely," Ginny grinned. "Did you even write the three feet required, Sanders?" The strawberry blonde boy shook his head morosely.

"Cherry Cherry?" Harry looked towards Draco, who was skimming their Potions text absentmindedly.

"Yeah, cause of the cherries you idiots ate. She won, she gets the nickname," Draco said, not even looking up.

"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked. Draco was usually much more chatty and endearing towards him.

"I don't know, Potter. Where were you all day yesterday? Why are you drinking today? Does it matter if something is wrong?" Draco asked in a harsh whisper. Harry saw Hermione glance at them as she was talking with Zabini.

"What the fuck, Draco? I don't get it. Why are you so angry?" Harry was completely confused, even more so when the blonde boy's face turned from angry frustration to defeat.

"Of course you don't, Harry. I need to make some changes to my Potions essay. I'll see you in class." And with that, he stood and left the Hall, leaving a bewildered Harry behind him.

Harry rested his eyes in his palms, feeling completely overwhelmed. _Draco is confusing, Snape is confusing, I have no idea what to do with them, and I have absolutely no idea who to talk to about it._

 _I wish Remus wasn't so far away these days. I wish Sirius was alive. If I hadn't been so stupid and foolish than he would be. I should have died first, I should have died first, I should have died first._

Harry's stomach was back to the twisted knot and he scowled at the food around him. Heaping piles of rich, heavy, useless shit. He could feel eyes on him from the Head table, so Harry turned around, found Snape glaring at him, and glared back before shoving his plate forward and downing a glass of milk.

Then he stood and threw his bag on his shoulders and stalked out, feeling completely out of sorts. He retreated to his typical lunchtime courtyard and smoked another joint and drank lazily from his water bottle. He slammed his fists on the ground, relishing the pain that shot up his arms. He did it again.

Finally satisfied, Harry smoked a cigarette, feeling his chest settle from the tightness it had before. He idly wondered if there was a chance he could skip Potions and not be sacrificed to some sort of god. _Probably very low._

He stood up, feeling the chill of the autumn air starting to creep through to him, and dragged himself to the dungeons. He made it in the door just a moment before Snape swept in and quickly found his seat before he could be berated. Draco didn't even look up at him.

"Today, if everyone can manage to not murder their classmates, we will be brewing the Facile Spiritus potion. Can anyone tell me what that does?"

Draco and Hermione's arms shot into the air. Snape nodded at them, but instead targeted Ron.

"Weasley, answer the question. You did do the reading, correct?" Ron paled beneath his freckles as Snape stepped towards him menacingly.

"It um makes it so the person," Ron paused, obviously trying to piece together the lating, "can easily… feel spirited?"

A few laughs rang out from around the classroom at the disastrous answer.

"I think not, Mr. Weasley," Snape sneered nastily, "Malfoy, answer."

"It helps people breathe easily. Some variants are for emergencies when there is something unidentified wrong with their breathing, others are for panic attacks, and the last variant is made to be long term for muggleborns or those with any form of mixed blood that have asthma," Draco smoothly replied.

"Correct. Ms. Granger, when is it not wise to use this potion?"

"If there is any suspicion that the person was poisoned by potion or plant, or if the person is intoxicated," Hermione stated smartly.

"Indeed. You will all make one of the variants, but it cannot be the same as the person sitting next to you. Label your potion accordingly before you hand it in. Begin."

With that, he pointed his wand to the board, making his spidery handwriting appear. The potions were divided between Emergency (short term), Emotional (short term), and Asthma (long term).

Harry tentatively turned to Draco, "So which will you be doing?"

"Asthma," he stated shortly, flipping his book open before he left to get ingredients. Harry slumped in his seat, but flipped the Prince's book open and decided on the Emergency variant since it seemed easiest.

They worked quietly the entire class, but Harry kept getting lost in the fog of his mind so that by the end, despite using the Prince's book, his potion was only subpar.

Snape rounded to the front of the classroom as they were packing up. "You should be thinking about your project for this class by now. Proposals are due before Christmas break. Choose either a project that is term-long, or one that can last a year and a half. Potter, stay. Everyone else is dismissed."

 _Fuck._ Harry watched enviously as his classmates trailed out. He sank back into his chair and dropped his forehead into his arms.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's low, cool voice appeared above him, but Harry didn't bother looking up. "It seems you did not eat breakfast or lunch today. Or any meal at all yesterday. Clean ten cauldrons now." With that, Harry heard footsteps walk away.

He stood warily and went to the back corner where the sinks were located. The usual towering pile of cauldrons was there and Harry grabbed one and started, filling it with hot water and the soap Snape supplied.

As he scrubbed, his hands stung desperately. The hot water and soap was really irritating the raw knuckles. By the time thirty minutes was up and five cauldrons shiny, it caused Harry a great deal of pain to even move his fingers. Regardless, he stood and scoured, trying not to let the heat make him even dizzier. He could hear a quill over his shoulder, and he was grateful Snape was not paying him much attention.

However, over the course of the next hour, Harry got slower and slower due to the pain radiating from his hands. He felt completely submerged in water, transfixed as he watched his bright red, blue, and black hands perform the same motions over and over. As he was drying off his ninth, focusing hard on making his finger move appropriately, a voice startled him from behind.

"Potter, what is the meaning of those?" _Shite. Angry voice._

Harry shrugged and reached out to grab the tenth cauldron from the stack.

"Stop, Harry," a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist gently, but Harry still flinched away violently. He felt nauseous suddenly. And dizzy.

"Sit down." Harry saw a chair appear beside him so he did as instructed. He still felt like the floor was moving, but felt infinitely safer sitting down. He heard the scrape of another chair but refused to look up.

"Give me one hand, please," Snape's professional voice asked. Harry stuck his left hand out, unfurling it painfully.

"I'm going to hold it up and fix any broken knuckles first. It will feel similar to your rib from the beginning of the year. Please respond so I can continue."

"'Kay," muttered Harry. He heard the incantation and felt the jarring click, but did not acknowledge it.

" _Accio_ sanitation gel, _accio_ bruise balm, _accio_ skin mender," Snape called out and Harry heard the different bottles being placed on a nearby desk. "I'm going to apply these, and then wrap your hand with gauze, just for tonight so everything has a chance to seep in."

Harry nodded and let the man work. The long, calloused fingers were gentle against the deep bruising and open wounds, but the sanitation gel definitely stung when glazed over the cuts. Harry did his best to keep his face expressionless, but he could feel Snape looking at him between the different potions.

"Other hand, please," requested Snape after he finished with the gauze. Harry stuck it out and stretched it out from the fist, the pain much sharper than the other.

"Ah, this one appears to have three broken knuckles. You are right handed, I believe." Harry nodded, but flinched this time as his knuckles were set into place. This hand also had more open wounds, making the sanitation gel even more torturous.

But a traitorous part of Harry's mind relished in the gentle care Snape took with him. Even though he knew he would get scolded, Snape fixing his hands reinforced what the man had said yesterday. _This feels like care. Like he's taking care of me. He easily could have sent me off to Madame Pomfrey, but instead he is taking the time to do this._

Harry's guilt increased. He had been so rude yesterday. Even at lunch he had glared at the man.

 _But how long will this last? Until I do something even worse? Until he finds out about the cutting? Until I piss him off and he realizes how good it feels to hit me? Or figures I'm not worth the time?_

Harry slumped lower in his chair. In his periphery, he watched as Snape finished up the gauze, dreading what was next.

"To my quarters, Mr. Potter. Follow me." Snape stood, grabbed Harry's bag, and walked not out the door, but into the storage room and through a door Harry had never noticed before. They appeared in Snape's hallway, the man magicking the door across from them closed before heading to the sitting room.

The fireplace lit up as they took their seats. Harry leaned back into the comfortable cushions and breathed out slowly.

"Do you know why I am upset with you today?"

 _Shite. He didn't waste any time getting to the point._

"Cause I punched a wall and didn't eat," Harry mumbled.

"Partly. Can you think any deeper than that?" The question was said with a light sneer, but it felt harmless.

"Cause you said to eat and I disobeyed. And I wasted your time because you fixed my hands," Harry said cautiously. He tensed when he heard Snape sigh.

"No, Potter. I am upset because you injured yourself and did not ask for any medical help. Even further, it upsets me that you had no coping skills that could have prevented that. This is why I supplied a journal to you," Snape stated, his voice wearing thin, as if he was exhausted. "I am upset you have not eaten in two days because you are still dreadfully thin and it is affecting your health, both physical and mental. In other words, when you don't eat, you are hurting yourself."

Harry stared at the floor, trying to process the words. They kind of made sense, but Harry couldn't figure out why it upset Snape so much to see him hurt himself.

"I think broth for tonight, don't you?"

Harry nodded, glad for the light meal. He still didn't trust himself to speak for fear of saying something stupid. The soup appeared, accompanied by a roll, tea, and nutrition potion. Harry had a bit of trouble trying to hold the spoon and not upset the gauze, but as long as he went slowly he did okay.

They sat in tense silence. Harry felt Snape's eyes on him often but dared not look up. Instead, he focused intensely on his soup.

"Drink the tea. It has herbs beneficial to healing," Snape said, startling Harry. He nodded and took a sip. It was surprisingly good, and Harry tried to figure out what it was made of.

"Name some healing herbs that could go into tea and I will inform you of the correct ingredients."

Harry nodded, thinking over _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and what they have made in classes.

"Ashwagandha root, Calendula, er, garlic, ginger, Echinacea, Licorice, um, I don't know, St. John's Wort? What did I miss? I tried to remember just anti-inflammatory ones or ones that are good for skin," Harry shrugged.

"Ashwagandha root, Calendula, Licorice, Kava, Stinging Nettle, and a bit of Lemon Balm in addition to a basic green tea," Snape listed. Harry felt a bit proud for getting a few correct. He took another sip and tried harder to decipher each flavor while ignoring Snape.

"Mr. Potter," the man started, taking a sip from his own cup, "What happened between you and Mr. Malfoy at lunch?"

Harry looked up, finally meeting his professor's eyes. He was surprised by the question, thinking that he was going to be yelled at or put back to work, not asked a menial question. Snape's eyes seemed heavier than usual today. Harry could see light bags under his eyes that haven't been there thus far this year.

"Er, I don't really know. He was mad at me, but I don't get it."

"What did he say?"

"Um, I asked what was wrong and he just asked me where I was yesterday and why… um why does it matter if something is wrong," Harry remembered not to bring up the little fact of his day drinking. Instead, he watched Snape fold his fingers together and smirk slightly.

"That is interesting Mr. Potter. Now, you may ask something if you wish."

Harry shrugged but took a few bites as he thought about it. Snape seemed completely at ease with the silence, so Harry took his time.

"Do you have many friends? I mean, not be offensive, but ya know, you did live life as a spy and whatnot," Harry trailed off at the end, a little embarrassed but still curious. Snape merely quirked his lips.

"I do. On staff at Hogwarts I am good friends with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Lupin, Sinistra and even Hagrid. I consider the Weasley parents, as well as Bill to be friends. Narcissa Malfoy and Karyna Zabini are also friends, but Karyna is often busy with her marriages. So yes, I do have friends," Snape ended lightly.

Harry nodded, thinking through the names he listed. "You're really friends with Lupin now?"

"Indeed, Potter. Things change," Snape had a small smirk on his face, but Harry ignored it in order to sip his tea some more. "What made you punch a wall?"

 _There it is._ Harry hunched his shoulders and stirred his soup around with the spoon.

"I dunno."

"That is not an answer, Mr. Potter," Snape said wryly.

"I just, ya know, got, er, overwhelmed," Harry shrugged.

"Over what?" Harry felt his chest tighten and his cheeks flush.

"Ya know, yesterday." There was a pause.

"Because I stated that I care about you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess." Harry could feel his cheeks darken further.

"You do realize it is not-," Snape struggled to find a word, but Harry's heart sunk. _Stupid, stupid, you got your hopes up. He doesn't really care. "_ It is not in any romantic or ill-intentioned way."

Harry paused, not daring to believe it.

"Well, yeah, Professor. I'm only sixteen and you're the same age as my parents would be." Harry felt relief pour off him. _Maybe he does care. I mean, I don't blame him if he doesn't, but it would be nice for someone to have my back._

"You would be surprised, Potter," Snape said dryly, but Harry detected just a hint of humor in his eyes. "But I can understand how the idea of the greasy bat of the dungeons expressing care for you could be overwhelming." Snape raised an eyebrow as Harry's mouth dropped open. "I have heard a lot in my years here, Potter, do not be so surprised." Harry shut his mouth.

"Well it's not that its you. Well it is, but not for that reason. It also isn't just because it's you. Its just, I dunno, a lot," Harry finished lamely. Snape merely peered at him and nodded. _Its just that I don't know how to do this. I don't know how I'm supposed to act or say or feel. Sirius was easy. He was fun and instantly loved me. Snape is serious and overly protective and rather mysterious. Not to mention he hated me for five years. I know I'm just going to push him away somehow and then I'll be alone again and relying on fucking Dumbledore for guidance. It would have been so much easier if I had actually died. I don't want the future disappointment. At least death is secure. Or it's supposed to be._

Harry felt completely exhausted all of a sudden. This confusing, stilted conversation seemed to have taken the last bit of energy from him. He managed to look up when Snape started speaking again, though.

"Mr. Potter, just try and keep in mind that I am here. I am clearly not one for consistent sentimentality, but that does not mean that I will not be available for you, as well as reprimand you over your dismal displays of self-preservation," Harry felt warmth at those words, but it wore off almost immediately. "I will not make any promises to you for fear I cannot keep them. This is an unfamiliar situation and I will surely make mistakes. For now, we will continue as we have been."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for getting his hopes up. _In other words, Snape would help until Harry did something stupid, so he can't make a promise to stay around._ He felt so out of it that he was sure his emotions were heightened, making him feel weak and vulnerable and emotional.

"Would you care to draw or write in your journal? Or read, perhaps?"

Harry nodded and Snape drew his journal from his bag and passed it to him. Harry withdrew the self-inking quill from inside and flipped to a clean page. He watched Snape flip open a newspaper, immersing his large nose in it.

Harry stared at the blank page, quill at the ready, but the thought of trying to put words to the emotions swirling in him was daunting and his eyelids were so heavy already.

Five minutes didn't pass before Harry's head rested against the back cushion, eyes closed, asleep.

Ssssssss

Severus threw the newspaper on the now cleared table. _That was one of the most uncomfortable discussions I've had recently._

The boy was clearly in a state of confusion and apprehension over the unpleasant fact that Severus expressed interest in his well-being. _Probably because the only other person who has is now dead; a person completely different from me that found it much easier to love others. And now the boy is stuck with me, an emotionally stunted Death Eater._

Severus had to admit that it was surprising that Potter seemed eager, though extremely wary, to allow Severus to actively help him. He could have easily said no at the very beginning of this agreement, and Severus would have simply switched to protecting the boy lightly and telling Minerva or Remus to do the hard, emotionally taxing work.

Instead here he was, allowing the boy to sleep on his sofa. Allowing the boy to invade his privacy and make space in Severus' life. He put his head in his hands.

The conversation had eased some of his anxieties from earlier. He had been sure Potter would not return tonight, and the glare over lunchtime seemed to solidify that. He had forced the boy to clean cauldrons and then marched him to his quarters, but Potter had put up no protest.

 _Those mangled hands, though, were painfully reflective of the child's current state._ Those worried Severus. Drinking he could deal with easily, seeing as he was detached due to the self imposed sobriety he had lived with his whole life. His father was an alcoholic, but Severus was completely unfazed by teenagers drinking at this point as Head of House.

Committing bodily harm to oneself, however, was a tougher subject. Severus began to seep into the swirl of unpleasant memories when Remus stepped through the tapestry.

He smiled warmly at Severus, then at the sleeping form of Potter. Coming around the sofa, he leaned to Severus and kissed him gently on the lips before taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom.

Once the door was closed, Remus shed his professor's jacket and shook off his shoes.

"He looks bad, Sev," Remus whispered, pulling Severus close, "And so do you."

Severus face cracked. He squeezed his eyes closed and started counting backwards from 277, speaking the numbers softly so as not to let his voice waiver.

Remus simply pulled him closer to the bed and undid the many buttons on his robes, pulling them off, and starting on the buttons on his shirt.

Severus let him. Thought internally he was begging for pain, the gentle touch of Remus centered him. Remus undid Severus' belt and trousers, removed his shoes, and laid him down in the center of the bed.

The werewolf shrugged out of the rest of his clothes until he was just in an undershirt and pants, and climbed in next to him just as Severus reached 0. Remus pulled him in close, his strong arms holding him tight enough to feel secure, but not trapped.

"I'm a bad partner," Severus said, devoid of emotion despite the whirlwind inside of him.

"Why do you think that?" Remus asked, running his fingers through the long strands of black hair.

"I require too much attention and care and cannot give back enough. I am a burden." Severus kept his voice cool, but his eyes were shut tight again. He felt himself be rolled over, but did not open them.

"Severus, you give me so much. I could not imagine my life without you in it. You make me laugh, you make me think, you keep me steady."

"You are warm, and kind, and loving," Severus began, before getting cut off.

"You are warm and kind and loving, Severus," Remus said quite seriously. "Now open your eyes."

Reluctantly, Severus did as asked and met the golden eyes of his partner, fiery and loving and safe. He relaxed a bit, shifting closer into Remus' chest, breathing in the scent of the man.

"You're the only person to ever call me warm," he said wryly.

"Yes, well, I have the pleasure of sleeping with you, so I know best," Remus responded lay in silence for a few moments, soaking up each other's skin.

"I fear I am failing." This time Severus whispered it into the crook of Remus' neck, feeling ashamed of the admission.

"Why?"

"He is not getting better fast enough. He does not trust me. I think he is like me in many ways. I fear for him."

"Like you how?" Remus' voice had gone up just a bit. There were many dangerous implications in the comparison, Severus knew.

"He punched a wall, repeatedly. He has isolated himself. He does not find himself worthy to be cared for."

"Did you tell him you cared?" Remus sounded a bit shocked.

"I did. It has only served to confuse and overwhelm him. I do not know what I am doing and I fear that if I fail, he will fall even harder." Severus' voice was tight and he started counting down from 65 by fives. Remus patiently waited until he finished.

"I know this is hard on you, love, but I think you're doing a fine job. He speaks to you. He does not acknowledge my existence, or any other professor except when directly spoken to in class. He barely acknowledges other students. I think the only way to fail him is to leave him. He may not know what to do with you, but I think even he realizes he needs someone to come to now that Sirius is gone."

Severus could feel the hurt in Remus' voice, both from not being Potter's confidant and from the mention of his best friend. Severus placed a few kisses on the man's shoulder.

"Potter will come around, dear."

"Yes, because you will bring him around," Remus replied easily, his strong hand tracing Severus' spine. "Now, did you actually eat dinner or just interrogate my pup?"

Severus scowled against Remus' neck. The werewolf felt it.

"You will eat better tomorrow."

"Not all of us have wolfish appetites," Severus snapped. Remus chuckled good-naturedly.

"No, but you do have to eat. Especially if you're attempting to be a role model to a boy who looks half-starved."

"Should I give him a blanket?" Severus felt suddenly concerned at the state of the child sleeping on the sofa.

"Yes, Sev, Merlin. And lay him down, its not good for him to sit up like that and sleep. Bring a pillow too. And take off his glasses and shoes."

"I am woefully unprepared for this task," Severus grumbled, standing and putting on one of Remus' large tees.

"He chose you, Sev. Get with it," Remus smiled, tossing a pillow to him. "And come back. I want to tell you about this dreadful Slytherin in my fourth year class."

Severus scowled and exited the room after pulling a quilt from the trunk at the base of the bed.

The Potions Master stepped down the hall quietly to find Potter still sleeping and looking rather uncomfortable at that angle. Severus sighed and maneuvered the boy gently, placing his head at one end of the sofa on the pillow, and tucking his feet, sans shoes, on the opposite side. The boy curled up tightly, but relaxed a bit when Severus draped the quilt over him.

Finally, he slipped the wire frames from the child's nose and put them on the table.

Staring down at the sleeping child, Severus worried more than ever about the damage he could cause. He thought of Remus' words and his resolve strengthened. He would do right by this child. He had to.


	17. Chapter 17

_Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this update. I plan on dragging out Draco and Harry's feelings forever so I'm sorry in advance. Also, in my head for this story, the AU is that when Harry found Riddle's diary in second year, Dumbledore immediately started on the horcrux hunt over the next three years. Also, its not particularly relevant, but the Triwizard tournament took place a year early as well, just so it essentially gives the same amount of active Voldemort time as in the books though this is set in sixth year. Thank you! Tell me things you want for Draco! Review!_

5:30 AM. Harry stirred at the sound of whispers close to him. His groggy mind couldn't put them together, but they sounded warm and he let them wash over him as he tucked his head further into the pillow. Then the sound of the floo flaring up made him realize he was not alone and he was not in his room.

Blearily, he sat up, the world around him especially fuzzy. He reached out blindly and patted around the floor and table until he found his glasses. Finally putting them on, his face fell when he looked around. _Shit. I actually fell asleep here. Snape must've been so annoyed._

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," a baritone voice rang out, causing Harry to whip his head around and see the tall man leaning against the frame to his kitchen.

"Er, good morning Professor. I'm sorry for falling asleep here," Harry started, his voice rough.

"Do you think I would have let you stay if I minded?" Snape sneered, turning his back on Harry and walking into the kitchen. _Right. That's pretty true._

Harry swung his legs around and stretched, his hands feeling much better but still a bit tight. He was trying to flatten his hair when Snape came back, carrying two thermoses and two water bottles.

"Here's coffee and here is water. Start on the water first. And put these on. You know where the bathroom is." Snape dropped a pile of clothes in Harry's lap and motioned for him to go change.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but did as asked. When he locked the bathroom door, he realized that he had been given swimming trunks and some sort of silky, clingy, long sleeve shirt, as well as a pair of sweatpants that were a bit too long. He threw everything on and padded back to the sitting room where Snape was sipping his water bottle and flipping through a newspaper.

"Er, I'm ready sir."

Snape looked up and examined Harry. "Do the swimming trunks and rash guard fit? I had to approximate on your size."

Harry's eyes widened. _He bought these just for me?_

"Yes sir, they fit perfectly. I can pay you back-"

"No. I asked you to swim. The least I can do is make sure you have the proper attire. Now, grab your water and coffee. We need to be back by 7:15."

Harry forced his shoes on and grabbed his drinks, following Snape out of the tapestry and turning towards the back stair case, curiously. Then they turned left from that and followed it for a bit before he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "aconite." All of a sudden, the stone wall split into a door and opened to a small staircase. Harry's eyes were wide, and grew wider still when Snape calmly pushed open the door at the end of the stairs to show a view of the Lake from the edges of the forbidden forest.

"Whoa, how? We're so close to the lake!"

"Potter, half the dungeons are literally under the lake. It was an old escape route for students, modified to be password protected in the last century."

Harry shrugged and stepped forward, twisting back to see what the door looks like.

It was a tree. They just emerged from a tree with secret stairs. _Bloody hell that's cool._

"Come along, Potter," Snape said, his long gait carrying him through the trees briskly until he reached the path. Harry scurried after him, glancing back to look at the perfectly ordinary tree they had just came through.

They walked in silence, rounding the curves of the Lake until Harry spotted the stony beach Snape had been swimming in before. They stepped down there and Snape quickly cast a heating charm to the beach and extended it out to the other side of the lake, orange sparks tracking its progress.

"The charm is only eight feet wide, so try not to get off course. The water is very cold. When I reach the halfway point, I will transfigure something into a floating dock. Do not go past there and take a break on it. This part of the lake is the shortest distance across, but it is still quite long."

Harry could see that that was true. It still seemed very far, but the Lake curved back on both sides of them, stretching the distance even further.

Snape turned to face the Lake and peeled off his black shirt and shed his sweatpants. Harry was once again surprised by the large moon tattoo and the variety of scars. He then approached Harry and motioned for him to stick out his hands. Snape peeled the gauze off, revealing healed hands.

"How well do you swim?" Snape asked him, stepping towards the water.

"Not well. I can do freestyle, but I'm slow. I'm sure I'm worse now," Harry shrugged, taking off his shoes and sweatpants, infinitely grateful for the heating charm that eased the fall wind.

"That will be fine." Snape turned to him and considered him briefly before muttering a spell over Harry, then seemingly dragging his wand and touching his wrist. A black band appeared there, looking like a tattoo.

To Harry's curious expression, Snape explained, "It is a monitoring charm, often used for children. If you start to drown or get in trouble with grindylows, the band will tighten and turn red."

The man then picked up a stone and transfigured it into a wand holster and passed it to Harry, who gratefully slipped it on his forearm and tucked his wand away. Snape pocketed another stone and nodded to Harry.

Harry approached the water and stepped in slowly, despite the warmth.

"Hurry up Potter."

Harry blushed and waded in faster, finally getting up to his waist and diving under. He started swimming, feeling clumsy and weak, but making distance. A moment later, Snape passed him, barely making a ripple.

It felt good in the lake. The water wasn't too warm and it retained a refreshing chill to it that seemed to lighten the fog residing in Harry's head.

It was also quiet. The only sounds he heard were bird chirps when he tilted his face up to gather air. Then it was back to the muffled waters.

He was slow and it took him forever to reach the floating dock, but he felt lighter as he climbed up and lay out. The autumn sun was gorgeous and reflected so nicely against the waters of the Lake.

After a bit, Harry stood and looked around, spotting Snape nearing the floating dock. The man was steady but fast it seemed.

With his typical grace, Snape hopped on the dock and surveyed Harry momentarily.

"You are fine?"

"Yes," Harry said, honestly for once.

"Start swimming back, I will meet you there." And with that, the man dove off the dock and headed back to the far side. Harry shrugged and tried diving, facing the stony beach, but ended up clumsily going too deep. He pushed himself up, and then started back, relishing the water, but feeling himself move even slower than before, his muscles tiring out quickly.

When he was about ten yards from shore, Snape barreled past. By the time Harry reached the shallow part, Snape was drying himself off with his wand, looking like he didn't just exercise for over an hour. Harry laid back on the stones, chest rising quickly. His water bottle appeared before him and he grasped at it.

"Drink a lot of water. You're very out of shape. You will need to drink an abundance of water today, as well as eat _all three meals._ Your energy levels will be dangerously low if not. Understood?"

Harry attempted a nod as he guzzled water down. After finishing the bottle off, he accepted Snape's hand and was helped up.

"How do you do that every day?" Seriously, his arms already hurt and he had just finished. He was out of breath. He felt impossibly weak.

"You will find out. However, Potter," Snape's voice turned harsh, "If you miss any meals from now on, you will not be swimming. Instead, you will be woken up at the same time and forced to scrub the dungeons with a toothbrush. Your toothbrush."

Harry gulped and nodded, deciding that now is not the time to test the man.

"Right, I'll eat. Or, ya know, do my best." Harry pulled on the sweatpants, not bothering to place a drying charm.

"Come along, then," Snape started striding back up the path, leaving Harry to scurry after him.

Sssssss

12:52. Harry was rushing back into the castle after smoking a joint in the courtyard after he ate half a sandwich. He had Transfiguration in eight minutes, and McGonagall was not pleased when someone was late.

He had spent the rest of the morning smoking and picking up his parts of the room in an attempt to make Draco happy. Then he finished up the conclusion to his Transfiguration essay and headed down to the Great Hall. Draco was already there, cushioned between Pansy and Hermione.

Harry had slid next to Ginny and stayed quiet the whole meal, unable to understand what was wrong with Draco. The blonde boy avoided eye contact the whole time, leaving Harry feeling even more anxious and upset than usual. Draco had left early, saying he needed to talk to McGonagall about something he was confused over.

Harry left not long after, going to his courtyard to smoke and managed to not throw up. He was hungrier than usual today, and wanted to be able to keep it down.

He slid into his seat beside Draco one minute before class began, slightly out of breath. Draco didn't look up from lying out his parchment, ink and quill in the same layout he always did on note-taking days. Parchment was straight in front of him, quill parallel to parchment on the right side, and ink directly above quill.

Harry sighed and pulled out his supplies, barely listening as McGonagall began speaking. He felt at a loss. It felt somehow worse than all the times Ron turned against him.

Draco was scratching away fervently, and Harry just doodled along the edges of the parchment, drawing little owls and deer.

Then he started writing.

 _Draco,_

 _If you haven't noticed by now, I am kind of a complete idiot and really bad at realizing when I do something wrong. However, I do think I owe you an apology. We are roommates and when I fail to appear in that room and go missing, I can understand why you would worry. I really don't mean to, I am just used to roaming around to clear my head and sometimes get stuck in there for a while. Next time, I'll try and send you a note or remember to come back at a reasonable time. I'm really not used to anyone wondering where I went off to. Hermione and Ron were always used to it and the other boys in the dormitory didn't give a shite as long as I didn't lose points. Half the time I don't think anyone noticed when I would go off._

 _Anyway I'm sorry and will try not to do it again, but I can't make any promises._

 _Harry_

 _P.S. I tried to clean the room._

Harry read it over, blushing a bit at his poor excuse for an apology. Maybe he had completely misinterpreted what was wrong and this letter would just be a big embarrassment. Regardless, he decided to draw more animals on the bottom half, focusing on an Artic fox in the center. Around it he drew some snowflakes and a glacier. He didn't know anything about the animal, but it was what popped into his head when considering Draco.

By the time class was over, Harry had attempted to sketch a whole Artic wonderland around the fox with his limited knowledge.

And he had not taken one single note. _Fuck. That's over two hours of information I missed._

Harry cast a drying charm on the parchment and folded it up in his pocket. Draco had already disappeared into the corridors, so Harry took his time climbing the back steps to RoRi. The room was empty when he got inside, so he just put his note on Draco's bed and slumped into the sofa.

He felt exhausted all of a sudden. He lit a cigarette and pulled out the Marauder's Map, browsing through the hundreds of dots. Draco was on the fourth floor, talking to Zabini and Parkinson. Ginny was in the greenhouses with Luna. Hermione was with Dean in the library. Ron was with Seamus, heading outside, probably to the pitch.

Harry was alone.

He tilted his head back and exhaled smoke, watching it curl its way to the ceiling.

Sssss

"You're in a mood, Potter," Snape said dryly. Tonight he was casual. He had changed into casual black jeans and a black sweater. Coincidentally, Harry was wearing Snape's black sweater that the man had given him two weeks ago. Snape pretended not to notice. He had been pretending for the six times Harry had worn the sweater since. It was comfy and big and smelled like herbs.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied honestly. Draco had not returned to the room before Harry had gone to dinner, leaving Harry to chain smoke forlornly for the duration of the afternoon. He had at least finished his charms essay, though it was definitely shoddy work.

"Is there something in particular that is causing this foul mood?"

Harry shrugged and moved his spoon around in the beef stew before taking a bite. The stew was good, but rich, and Snape said he only had to eat half as long as he ate the apple slices on the side.

"Verbal response, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice wasn't harsh, but it definitely exhibited his impatience. _This man and his bloody "verbal responses."_

"Draco's still mad at me." Harry glanced up and saw a flash of interest on the dark man's face.

"Do you know why?" Harry bowed his head.

"I think because I disappeared after he fell asleep at the party and didn't show up all Sunday." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape shift forward.

"Do you think maybe it is for the similar reasons I was worried?"

Harry blushed, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

"I guess."

"So maybe, you should begin to think about other people's feelings and reactions before doing anything rash, such as disappearing or stumbling around drunk and alone?"

"Yes, sir." Harry's blush was deep by now, and felt fully chastised. It was odd though, people had yelled at him and taken points, and hit him for doing stupid things before, but none of that made him feel quite so remorseful. It was a bit alarming. Part of him wished he could go back to having no real restrictions besides school rules, which he didn't mind breaking.

"Good, now keep eating," Snape said, mercifully not dragging it out further. "What Draco wants is acknowledgement. He wants you to apologize and prove that he wasn't being weak for worrying. He has more than you would expect going on right now, so do try not to cause unnecessary stress for him."

Harry shot Snape a quizzical look, but the man merely raised an eyebrow. They sat in silence for a while longer, until Harry was struggling to eat more soup and switched to apple slices.

"Sir," Harry started, getting Snape's attention, "Are you going to do the Gay Brigade thing?"

"I believe so. Professor Lupin has already given his answer in the affirmative and is convincing me to do the same."

"Why do you not want to?"

Snape raised an eyebrow and sneered lightly. "Do I really seem like the kind of person to lead a group based on personal identity and problems with youth?"

"You help me with my fuckload of problems."

"Language, Potter," snapped Snape, "And yes, but you are one person, not fifteen or thirty or however many there are in your little group. I am also not a role model for anyone. Hopefully, Draco will just ask me to assist with teaching defensive spells. Remus can handle all the emotional aspects."

Harry snorted into his cup, picturing Snape sitting in a circle and talking about his feelings.

"Yes, yes, it is hilarious, I know," the Potions Master said dryly. "Now, are you going to attend these meetings?"

Harry shrugged, but at Snape's glare, quickly answered. "I don't know. I mean, I guess. I don't really fancy talking about my emotions about being a f… er, being gay to a bunch of other students. Also, I don't know, I don't want to be around Lupin much."

"Why?"

All of a sudden, Harry's previous sadness and anger over Lupin came back full force. At the same time, he eyed Snape curiously.

A year ago he was yelling to Lupin about what a sneaking, evil, traitor Snape was; about how much he loathed the man; about how the man was surely working for Voldemort and was just waiting to hand Harry over to his Dark Lord. And Lupin sat there, pained expression on his face, ignoring Sirius' laughter, and defended the man at every turn.

Would Snape do the same?

"He left me." Harry stated, staring into Snape's dark eyes angrily. The man didn't respond, so he continued, "He left me after the war. It was like he was someone else who died. I wrote him and he barely responded. He just kept bloody apologizing." At this, Harry stomped the floor.

"I didn't want an apology. I wanted Sirius and he was dead and he's dead forever and I could have prevented it and I know Remus will never forgive me because if I had just died first, his best friend would be alive. And now he doesn't have a pack and I would've done anything, _anything_ to make it up to him, _but he barely talks to me until he shows up as a professor again."_

Harry stood up and started pacing, hands clenched into fists. "And now what am I supposed to say to him when he acts all cheery and, and, like he used to be? How am I supposed to forget that he hasn't been here this past year? _I fucking died and he disappeared._ Then I lost my friends. Then this summer. And now all this bullshit this year?"

Harry paused and looked at Snape, "He fucked up and missed out. He didn't help me and he wasn't there for me. I would have done anything to make it better, but he waited too long, ignored me when I really started needing him. I would rather talk to you than him. I have you now. I'm polite in class and that's all that matters. I do my work and keep my mouth shut. Right?"

Snape stood, slowly, and stepped closer to Harry, raising Harry's defenses, but he stood strong. The man placed a firm, but comforting hand on his shoulder and leaned down. Harry felt very exposed and suddenly felt like crying and then going to sleep.

"You do have me, but you can have more than one person, Harry. You are not selfish for wanting more," Snape tipped Harry's chin up to look at him. "What happened in that war was not your fault. You hold no responsibility for the events that occurred."

Snape's eyes bored into Harry's, his eyes deeply serious and showing some concern as well. Harry nodded slightly. The older man released his chin and gently pushed him back to his chair.

Once Harry was settled, Snape began speaking again.

"I do not expect you to actually believe me at first, but hopefully over time you will realize you hold no responsibility over the war, and that the position you were put in was an unfair and cruel act towards a child."

"But-"

"No, you are a child, now and especially last year and the preceding years that the Headmaster took you hunting for Dark objects of a Dark man's soul. And now, you are a child that has to learn how to live a normal life despite your former years of neglect and abuse, and your misadventures against the Dark Lord."

"I wasn't abu-"

"Shush, child," Snape's voice had grown softer, almost wearier. "You're in a very difficult position these days. The more people you can depend on, the better. Professor Lupin, as he has said many times, thinks of you as his _cub,_ " Snape's voice strained to say the word, making Harry snort. "It is clear he loves you. It is also clear he is struggling with what he went through with the war. You are not the only one to feel guilt and remorse. I know he would love if you offered a hand, even if you just smile at him in class or at those ridiculous meetings we will be attending. You are not ready to reestablish a relationship with him, but do not wait forever. You both miss each other, and you are both being stubborn."

Harry looks up, but Snape is staring off to the side, a distant look on his face.

"Sir?" Snape's eyes whip back to Harry, almost looking startled for a moment.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Er, are we swimming tomorrow?"

"Of course. Did you feel adequate during and after swimming today? Do you need muscle soothing balm?"

"I'm a little sore," Harry shrugged. Mostly he felt embarrassed that he was so weak that he could barely swim a fourth of what Snape can.

"You'll get better with consistency," Snape said indifferently. "Now, I think that tonight you should return to your room and see Mr. Malfoy."

Harry stood, put on his glamour, and grabbed his bag, not before noticing that the man still seemed very far away, as if he had completely left the room.

"Thank you, sir." Snape nodded absently, waving Harry from the room. Harry's stomach twisted as he left however. It felt wrong leaving him when he looked like that. Normally the man was sharp and quick, not foggy like the man Harry just left.

He adjusted his bag as he started up the stairs, his discomfort growing. Snape looked like Harry himself often did when he dropped his glamour and stared in the mirror. Ghostly. Like he had crossed over for a few minutes.

Harry was so absorbed in these worrisome thoughts he didn't watch where he was going, just watched the stairs under his feet.

Until he collided with someone.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Harry looked up, surprised. Professor Lupin stood above him, papers and books scattered everywhere. The professor looked nervous, but was smiling in his white button up and khaki slacks.

"Um, yes, sorry, sir, I wasn't looking." Harry bent to help the man gather up the fluttering papers.

"It seems we were both lost in our thoughts on these stairs," Lupin chuckled, stacking the parchment haphazardly.

"Er, yeah, guess so," Harry said cautiously, picking up a Defense book and a book on underwater gardening. Snape's words were running through his head. "Um, it's nice you're going to do Ginny and Draco's club thing."

Lupin looked up, beaming. Harry shifted his weight and handed him the books.

"I'm very excited. It's a very good idea those two came up with. So I take it you will be attending?"

"Er, yeah. They'd murder me if I didn't," Harry shrugged. He looked down, feeling tense again.

"Well, Severus and I are very pleased to participate," Remus said, his own voice beginning to sound tense. However, it gave Harry an idea.

"You're friends with him now, right? Snape?" He asked urgently. Lupin's eyes widened but he nodded. "Okay, I just left his quarters and he seemed to be in a weird mood and I don't know, normally he's very sharp and whatever but he seemed off. Do you think you could check on him?"

"Yes, of course I can. Thank you for telling me, Harry." Lupin, with the large pile of parchment and books, began making his way down the stairs.

"I mean, I'm sure he's okay. I just have only seen him in three moods before. Teaching, kinda nice, and furious, so this made me nervous."

Lupin turned and smiled at Harry. "You did the right thing telling me. Thank you, Harry. I hope you have a good night."

Lupin disappeared around a corner and Harry continued forward, feeling a little better about that situation now that someone else knew about it. However, now he knew he had to go back to his room and face Draco.

The seven floors seemed to go quickly, and before he knew it, Harry was walking into RoRi.

Draco was sitting at his desk, leaning back casually with a quill in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Evening, Potter," Draco said lightly.

"Er, hey."

"Did you finish this Charms essay?"

"Yeah, I did it earlier. Its not my best work," Harry said slowly, unsure of where this friendly manner was coming from.

"That's because you didn't wait to do it with me, prat," Draco says smartly, smirking at Harry. Harry feels comfortable enough to grin back.

"That's because you disappeared after Transfiguration, prat."

Harry sits on the sofa, the side closest to Draco's desk and they go over the Charms assignment, cracking jokes and trading cigarettes for weed.

After a few hours and a stoned skate session, the boys get ready for bed. While Draco is in the bathroom and Harry is finishing up his last cigarette on the sofa, Harry notices that Draco has a new frame by his desk. He stretches as he stands to get a closer look, yawning a bit.

Cut in half, so the letter part was gone, was the drawing of the Artic fox Harry had drawn for Draco earlier today, placed in a simple wooden frame.

Harry felt his heart tighten.


	18. Chapter 18

_Hello everyone! I hope this finds you well. You guys are so kind to review. It fuels my soul. This is short and is definitely an in between chapter. It skips ahead, also, just so you know, but catches you up. The next chapter brings HUGE drama and begins more angst and backtracking for Harry, BUT for now,tell me about scandalous side events you want at the party? Ginny hooking up with who? Who gets too drunk? Etc, etc? It's fun for me to work that into my main chapter arcs, so let me know ideas!  
_

 _Halloween at Hogwarts. Something always has to happen..._

October 29. 8:32 PM. Harry was scratching away at his journal, legs tucked under him in his spot on Snape's sofa. The black clad man was sipping tea and perusing the evening newspaper, scowling at it often and circling the grammar mistakes with red ink.

It was calm. It had somehow become the new normal. Even though things were not perfect by any means, swimming in the mornings and dinner in the evenings were soothing to Harry.

And Draco was around more than ever. The thought brought a smile to Harry's face as he jotted down the joke the blonde had told him in Transfiguration this afternoon. And then he jotted down the cute smirk that graced his face after McGonagall had whacked his desk with a book when she overheard.

"Stop smiling over there like a lovelorn youth," Snape said dryly, not even taking his eyes off his newspaper. Harry stuck out his tongue. "Two points from Gryffindor for childish behavior."

"You aren't even looking!" Harry protested.

"I'm a wizard. Magic and all that," Snape responded, waving his hand around airily. Harry snorted. "If you make such undignified noises again, I shall simply turn you into the animal you sound like," he snapped.

Harry shut up. During Tuesday's Gay Brigade meeting, Snape proved just how clever he was in a duel. They had opened up RoRi to practice defensive spells after transforming the room into something besides the bedroom (luckily, because Harry was pretty sure he left a bag of weed out that morning).

Snape had taught the older students a shield that not only returned the spell to its caster, but also turned the caster's wand arm into an animal arm. It was tricky, and even Harry struggled with it, but it was very funny and very useful. The younger students were just taught a basic shield charm.

Harry liked this part of the GB. The other part was bollocks, in his opinion. He usually just sat in the corner and listened or read a school book as the group chatted about terminology and forming bonds and relationship troubles and bigotry. Sometimes he and Snape would flash each other scowls in partnership.

Most people were completely shocked when Snape stood up that first day and said he was gay, but quickly shut up about it when the man not-so-subtly threatened their hearts with pickling jars if they went gossiping about it.

Despite that, a lot of the younger ones were in awe of the gay war-hero, despite his bristly words and demeanor. One second year boy, sitting with the group at lunch one day, even called Snape dreamy, causing water to come out of Draco's nose in a very undignified manner.

There were thirteen students in year three and below in the GB, and twenty in the upper years. Draco and Ginny were confident they would get more, especially since there had only been three meetings thus far.

Harry really wished he could skip the "emotion meetings," as he and Snape called them. The younger years would sneak looks at him throughout, and he would be forced to sit there through all the rubbish they were spouting off. No one would ever want a real relationship with him, so he didn't need to know about healthy choices. And he already knew all about warning signs.

So he usually followed Snape's lead and brought a book to the meeting, skimming over his homework while the rest talked about their hurt feelings over someone calling them a name. He would suppress the urge to say something about the hurt of a broken rib, choosing to keep a blank face instead.

He would say that Draco and Ginny did a good job. They were active and engaged and made it fun for the younger ones who were even more confused about it all. They had called on the older students to become protectors, and were organizing a petition to get a table for the group in the Great Hall.

Unfortunately, since the GB started sticking up for itself even more, tension was rising steadily, and more and more fights were breaking out. It seemed everyone was picking a side, and while there were lots of allies, the younger kids that didn't know what it all meant usually stuck with what seemed to be the more powerful group.

Unknown to Lupin, but probably known to Snape, there was a chalkboard that Draco, Ginny, and Neville had going with the names of enemies and anyone who has engaged. The three of them, plus Harry and a few others, had been slowly getting revenge, usually silently and usually in an embarrassing way.

Ginny was not so silent, however, and played dirty. Ron got a Howler from Mrs. Weasley just yesterday that had the half the Great Hall roaring with laughter and the other half with burning cheeks. Fred and George had also enlisted in the cause, and had sent a plethora of playful weapons. This past weekend, Draco had convinced his favorite House Elf to slip something in Seamus' cup that turned his skin into a pretty rainbow pattern for three days.

The other side, unfortunately, played dirty and rough, but were getting better at hiding it. No student, especially older ones, wanted to tattle on another, so when Harry and Draco showed up Transfiguration sporting black eyes and busted lips, while Ron had bruised knuckles, no one said anything, but the room was heavy with tension.

Ron had joined up with a few 7th year brutes from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, including Cormac McClaggen, surprisingly, and a beater from the Hufflepuff team named Anthony Rickett that had hands as big as a bludger.

Snape had just about killed him when he showed up to dinner with a busted lip, but when he refused to give up who it was, Snape just shoved some balm at him and told him to keep more people around him.

What Harry didn't say, and would never say, was that he didn't mind being beat up. Sometimes he would even provoke the idiots a bit, though he usually panicked right before and after it. Draco usually taunted and sneered as his typical self, calling them nasty names and shooting powerful, though Light enough, hexes at them while they came forward with their wands and fists.

It seemed as though Ron's group had taken to following Harry and Draco. They knew their schedule in and out, especially when they had classes apart from each other. With Draco beside him, it was okay. It was scary right before the first punch, but they could handle themselves easily with magic. Plus, the physical blows were mostly scare tactics to rile them up. A black eye here and there hardly bothered Harry, especially with Draco beside him, giggling at the sight of McClaggen walking away with Jelly Legs.

But when they approached him alone, it was much more terrifying. Luckily, it had only happened twice so far before he got smart and started toting the map around. Those two times, however, he had gone to the boy's bathroom after and sat on the floor of the last stall through all his classes. He would get up and go to Snape's at night, but not speak. The man knew, and would apply bruise balm, then hand him a novel from his shelves and sit him in front of the fire on the rug.

The novel was Lord of the Rings, and it got him out of his head, and the fire made his body feel present. _Snape is good,_ he would think.

While he typically didn't mind being punched once a week, what he liked even more, however, was his potions knife, wrapped tight in his bookbag and used between classes on his upper arm or thigh. Usually he only used it about four times a day, just little marks, or reopening ones from before. Most of his shirts, jeans, and jumpers had hardened spots from blood, but luckily the elves seemed to be able to get them out.

Snape still didn't know. Draco didn't know. Harry was doing it more often, and a little deeper each time.

But he was eating. Three meals a day. Light meals, but meals all the same. And he didn't throw up so often. Just when he had to interact with the enemies a lot before lunch did it really make him nauseous. His stomach would just get so tight that when he ate anything, it immediately rebelled.

However, swimming seemed to help. Snape was right; he did need all the energy he could get for the morning swim sessions. He still felt weak, but he had definitely improved in the two weeks. The early mornings were killer, especially on days he and Draco stayed up late doing homework or just partying a little bit with Ginny, Luna, Parkinson or Zabini. Sometimes more people joined them, especially on Thursdays, but it was usually kept small in order to keep suspicion down. On weekends, though, all bets were off, and RoRi became a swarm of students from the Brigade, all lounging about and having fun.

Last Saturday, it was unnaturally warm, so everyone packed a bag full of goods and headed down to the Lake. Bypassing the other students that were out in the sun, the group sprawled out farther down, secluded enough that they could do what they wanted, but not too far that teachers strolling the lawns would be alarmed at their distance.

Blaise and Pansy transfigured all the champagne bottles to look like butterbeer so everyone could sip without fear. Harry and Draco split two bottles, warm from the sun, before climbing a tree and smoking joints with Ginny amongst the branches.

Harry later sketched Draco's face from that moment, surrounded by leaves with the soft Autumn sunlight filtering through the branches onto his pale face, and his eyes crinkled and laughing.

Everyone else went in the water, splashing about, but Harry stayed in the tree, smoking and watching, feeling both lonely and together.

That night, after more drinks and music and a bit of reckless indoor flying competitions (Ginny, of course), Draco and Harry fell asleep in Harry's bed after graciously allowing the girls to have Draco's. It did not take long for Draco to wrap his long arms around Harry.

Harry blushed thinking about it, his quill dripping onto his journal.

"Potter, if you're just going to sit here and blush, you might as well go back to your room," Snape snapped.

"Oi! You said to write in my journal! I can't help that the fire is hot," Harry said lamely. Snape smirked, but allowed it. Harry, every time he said anything remotely inflammatory towards the man, thought he was going to be thrown out of his quarters bodily and told to never return.

It still hasn't happened. In truth, they haven't engaged in any sort of real fight, just occasional jabs or banter. Snape, for the most part, seemed to find Harry funny, which sometimes softened Harry's mood and sometimes made it worse.

But Harry really wished that this were permanent. This felt like his space now. This spot on the sofa, the spot on the rug he sat on when he was in a bad mood so the fire could soothe him, even the mug that was used each day for tea felt like it was his.

A small, very small, tiny, miniscule, microscopic, part of him also claimed Snape as part of his life in the same way he had claimed the Weasleys and Sirius and Remus.

Harry tried to not let it come up often because he knew what would happen when it went wrong, just like when Sirius died or when Remus abandoned him. It would split him open and leave him for dead. So for now, Harry thought of himself as Snape's burden, nothing more.

It did not matter that they had almost fun conversations about the history of the castle and its many secrets, or that the man has been guiding him in that Runes book and Harry has been secretly loving it to the point that he is beginning to think of a really cool two year long Potions project, or that Harry sometimes falls asleep on the rug, reading Lord of the Rings, only to find himself on the sofa in the morning, with his shoes and glasses off.

None of that mattered.

 _What does matter is Saturday night._

Halloween. A year since the Battle.

A huge party in RoRi and tons and tons of drugs, complete with decorations put up by Draco and Pansy. It was supposed to be a costume party, which Harry personally thought was rubbish, but supposed it could be interesting to see how the magical community does it. Harry was just going to wear his usual gear, tear it up a little, put on some of Malfoy's jewelry, and say he's a rock star.

Tomorrow is Friday, so he didn't have class all morning but he did have Herbology in the afternoon. He was going to spend the morning doing all his homework for the weekend so he wouldn't have to worry about it at all, go to class, and then finish planning with Draco, Ginny, and Pansy.

For now though, especially since it was going to be a wild weekend, Harry pulled Lord of the Rings from the shelf and settled on the rug after closing his journal and warding it.

He was asleep within minutes. An hour later, strong arms pulled him up onto the sofa, took off his shoes and glasses, and pulled a warm blanket over him. Remus then clasped hands with Severus and they headed off to their bedroom peacefully.

Ssssss

October 31st. 1:42 PM. "You got the IDs, right?" Harry asked nervously for the tenth time since leaving the Three Broomsticks. They had stopped by the usual shops in Hogsmeade and meandered around, showing their faces to their peers and teachers before darting down an alleyway. He slipped a cigarette in his mouth, lit it, and fiddled with his nose ring.

"Potter, I swear to Merlin I'm going to hex your face into the ground if you ask again. Now stop messing with that thing so I can charm your eyes."

Harry stood as Draco placed appearance-altering charms on him so he could match the new fake IDs they had made last night. They had fought over their appearances quite a bit, but ultimately decided boring and not outstandingly attractive was a good thing, despite Draco's protests. Harry was now "Giles Knagg" with sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes with pale skin and a long nose. It was hard to make him taller without a potion, unfortunately, so he had to stay short.

"Feel okay," Draco asked, stepping back to survey his work.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged, rubbing the long nose. "Your turn."

Working slowly as to not screw up, Harry transformed Malfoy into a boy with dark brown short hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin, and thin lips and known as "Lochlann Collins."

"Let's go."

They headed down the back street to the Hog's Head, brushing past the typical shady strangers that frequent the run down pub. They push inside the heavy doors and are immersed in darkness; the windows so filthy that no light can reach inside. There are a few people inside, one person definitely already passed out with his head on the bar and cheek steeping in ale.

Draco sidles up to the bar confidently and Harry hangs back, happy to let him do the talking. A gnarly man with long hair that had unfortunately matted into blonde dreadlocks approaches wearily.

"Whaddya want?"

"My mate and I are having a bit of a get together so I was looking to buy some bottles tonight. Is that okay here?"

"'Tis. IDs. You look young," the man's sharp green eyes roam over us, making Harry want to take a step back. Instead, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out the ID and hands it over. The man scans them for a second and nods.

"Right. We would like three handles of firewhiskey, three of vodka, one of tequila, one of gin, three cases of Short Snout Ale, and six bottles of whatever bad champagne you have on hand."

The man stared at him for a second, raising his eyebrow, then nodded and moved along to the back room.

About five minutes of stress induced sweating later, the man came back with a crate of bottles and the three cases of beer.

"Right, thanks so much. Can you think of anything else before we take off, Giles?"

"Er, actually can I get a glass of firewhiskey? I'll be fast."

The mangy barkeep poured him two-fingers and Harry tossed it back, feeling much better as it burned his throat.

The whole day had been stressful. People, regardless of the gay thing, kept coming up and saying things to him like "Thank you" and "I'm sorry about your parents and Godfather," and "You must be celebrating today."

Gringotts informed him that people sent him money. He got cards thanking him. Flitwick teared up when he saw him in the street. It was completely fucking annoying.

He isn't celebrating. Draco thinks he is. Everyone thinks he is. He's really just going to try and get very fucked up and have lots of fun and forget that he has no family because of this fucking day.

Draco picked up a shite load of weed from his connect yesterday, they have enough alcohol to kill a dragon, and Harry has been saving his cocaine for now.

He was going to have a good time. He had to.

Snape, at least, was on his page. That morning the man had stopped him before he got in the carriages and told him to ignore all the self-invested idiots looking for praise because they say pleasantries one day a year. Then Snape told him that he would be in his dungeons after Hogsmeade, but patrolling from midnight until three if Harry needed anything.

Harry had nodded and said thank you and they had left it at that, gratefully.

Now, they were going to lug all this alcohol back into the castle and have a completely massive party that almost everyone knew about but no one would stop because Harry was the boy who stopped the war.

They shrank and lightened the bottles the best they could and put it in their bags and hurried out the door and through the streets to the Shrieking Shack. Inside, they canceled their charms so they looked like themselves again and skipped back to the castle, the thrill of the approaching night coming down on them.

When they reached RoRi, they quickly unloaded their heavy bags and set them into coolers. Harry collapsed on the sofa and lit a cigarette while Draco went over and straightened his desk.

"Alright, when are Ginny, Luna, and Pansy going to be over to help decorate?"

"Probably about two hours. They said they were going to go talk to the elves and arrange some Halloween treats to be sent up here for the party. They're also going to get all of their clothes together so they can change in here. Ginny is going to set up the distraction so everyone can get in safely. I think this time it'll be something weird on the Lake. You wanna take a nap so we are well rested for the festivities?"

Harry nodded, but didn't move from his place on the sofa.

"You going to be okay tonight?"

"'Course," Harry shrugged, "You know I love parties."

"Yeah," Draco rolled his eyes, "But its Halloween. And you've been off all day." The blonde came and perched on the armchair by Harry's head, his grey eyes boring into him. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm alright. It'll be nice to have a party to get my mind off things, anyway. And I'm sure Ginny will do something stupid and fun right off the bat," Harry grinned. Draco giggled a bit too, shining his smile at Harry.

"If you're sure, mate. Just let me know if you want to bail and I can walk you to Sev's or something. Ya know, it's not a great day for anyone, and I'm sure a lot of people are having conflicting feelings too. Just tell me, alright?"

"Nah, stop worrying, it'll be great. Let's go have a nap," Harry rolled off the sofa and flopped on his bed, trying to suppress the swirling thoughts in his head.

Ssssss

 _The Battle was waging around him, he could see spells being shot off everywhere and people ducking around buildings, but Harry's feet won't move. He was stuck. His arms worked and he was shooting spells off quickly, but Death Eaters were coming faster and faster, circling him like prey. They were bigger than him by many feet somehow, and blocked his view._

 _He couldn't see anyone else from the Light, just dark cloaks and masks swirling faster and faster, making his head spin. He sent curse after curse at the bodies around him, but none seemed to make a target. He could feel their stinging spells hit him, and he wondered why it wasn't anything more. He was used to the Unforgiveables from these types, not training spells._

 _He was trying desperately to move his feet, but the wouldn't budge, and he was left twisting around wildly and desperately, trying to keep tabs on the ever growing circle around him. He noticed the sun was growing smaller and smaller and soon it was dark and he could barely see anything but the black cloaks. He could hear them too, the swish of them as they moved around in a circle, taunting him and calling his name._

 _Finally Voldemort appeared and approached Harry, moving slowly until he was just inches away. He was trapped to the ground, surrounded._

 _Furious, Harry cast a Stupefy, but it came out as Avada Kedavra. It hit Voldemort right in the chest and he fell in a heap on the ground. Harry's feet came unstuck and he rolled the body over, his heart sinking only to see that it wasn't Voldemort that he had killed. It was Sirius._

"Potty, wake up!" A high, girlish voice made Harry jump awake. His heart was racing and his stomach was rolling. He blinked owlishly only to see Ginny, Luna, and Pansy standing around him, giggling.

"Time to set up, Harry. Get up, get up, get up!" Ginny said, cheerily ripping the blanket off him and ruffling his hair.

"Oi, give me a minute," Harry grumbled, still trying to get his bearings after that heart-wrenching dream.

It didn't matter to the three girls and Draco Malfoy. It was time to party.

...

 _Thank you for reading! Scandalous ideas for the party? Review!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Hello! This one is long to make up for the last short chapter! It starts fun! Ends with angst! Trigger warning for attempted sexual assault. I am very nervous about all aspects of this chapter, so please tell me your thoughts and feelings! Review!_

9:35. Harry had to admit that it looked completely amazing. Banners were back up, this time with cheesy Halloween sayings on them and flashing orange and silver. They had transfigured buttons into fake bats that were charmed to fly around every so often. Fog rose from every corner. The lights were purple tinted. Candles floated about casually. Cobwebs hung from every surface.

Cups this time were black and sent up a mist whenever a liquid was poured in them. There was candy all around and leftover baked goods from the Great Hall's feast. People would be charged a sickle at the door to drink and would be given a stamp. If they didn't have that stamp, they couldn't pick up the bottle. If they kept trying, the bottle would pour them water.

Harry was discovering Draco was very, very good at charms. But Draco had said he learned it from his mother who always wanted to make sure young Draco kept out of the liquor cabinet.

Now, the girls were finishing their makeup and Draco was primping in the bathroom. The blonde wouldn't tell anyone what he was going to be for the party, but said it would be amazing. He had nicked some of Harry's clothes, however, and smirked heavily as he surveyed Harry.

Harry, now, was lounging on the sofa, smoking a joint and sipping a glass of gin and FizzForever. He had prepared by rolling fifteen joints for himself and Draco. It was nearing the time of the start of the party and Harry was anxious to bust out the real deal.

He finished the joint and reached down to fold up his jeans over his heavy black Doc Martens and straighten the shoelaces. His jeans were black and he had placed a cooling charm on the heavy denim for the long night, as well as managed to cut some holes in the knees and fray them in a way that looked remarkably like ones he saw on Kurt Cobain in a magazine. _Magic helps._ He has on his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt, the black one with the angel on it and the sleeves cut off. Draco let him borrow jewelery, so he grabbed a long, thick, silver chain and a thin necklace that had a snake at the end, along with some non-descript silver and gold rings.

All in all, he looked like himself, but slightly more intense.

"C'mon, ladies!" He yelled across the room, where they had transfigured a curtain to have their own space to get ready in.

"Shut your trap, Potter," Ginny called back, but nonetheless, the curtain was banished and Harry saw their costumes.

"Good one, Gin. Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, huh?"

The redhead was dressed in dark green quidditch robes with a gold talon on the chest and carrying a beater's bat, as well as had the signature crest the captains wear charmed onto the front.

"An ode to Gwenog Jones, proud lesbian Quidditch player and one of the scariest Beaters out there today," Ginny said proudly, sauntering to the drinks table and pouring a drink.

"Me next, Harry!" Luna said, making Harry cringe. He had no idea what she was. She wore a purple and black striped shirt, black tights, and had a black, skinny triangle attached to ass. Over her hair, she had what looked like antennae.

Harry desperately looked at Ginny, who just waggled her eyebrows and shook her head.

"Is it a sort of, um, bee?"

"Yes, Harry. You have them," Luna said, almost tauntingly as she twirled around. _Shit, shit, what did Draco call them?_

"You're a soul bee!"

"Yes! Good boy! I'm an anipondus! And you're yourself with jewerlry!"

Pansy snorted heavily and Harry turned to her and almost took a step back. The girl looked good. Her black hair was curled, her makeup was smoky, and she wore long, flowing, sheer robes with what looked like just a black slip underneath from what he could tell. She carried a fake crystal ball that she had written the word "Death" on.

"Are you Trelawney forty years ago?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

Pansy pushed his shoulder, but laughed. "No, but good guess. I'm Cassandra Vablatsky, the seer cursed to only see tragedies after poisoned by a warlock that loved her."

"If he loved her, why poison her?" Harry asked, pouring Pansy a vodka.

"She refused his love," she shrugged, taking the drink and sipping before giving Harry a wry grin. "Though your opinion is rather pointless, do you think I look attractive?"

Harry laughed, but replied honestly, "I think that straight men and lesbians will be dying to get your attention."

"Perfect," she said mischievously, taking a seat next to Ginny. "When's the prince coming out?" Ginny snorted into her drink.

"Stop talking about me, or rather, start talking about my amazing costume."

Harry spun around and his jaw dropped. Draco stood there looking like himself, but also like Harry. He had a beanie on and had pushed his blonde hair under it, showcasing the charmed-on lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. He wore a black shirt that had the words "Chosen One" emblazoned in glittery gold lettering with Harry's acid wash jacket over it. He wore a pair of Harry's black jeans and a pair of Harry's black Converse trainers refitted for him.

"You are such an arse!" Harry exclaimed, blushing wildly.

Draco spun on his heel, arms wide so everyone could admire him, "I think I look pretty good. If I just slump my shoulders the whole time and hold a cigarette no one will know the difference," he said slyly, then started giggling wildly at Harry's deepening scowl.

The girls were laughing uncontrollably on the couch, even Luna who sometimes did not quite follow social cues. Ginny spilled half her drink on the soul bee before she managed to straighten herself up.

"You have to admit, Harry, it's pretty funny," she giggled. "And don't let it ruin your evening. People will start arriving soon. In six minutes the Great Lake will start growing a tropical jungle around it, thoroughly consuming many professors."

Harry shook his head one more time at the prat he called a best friend who grinned widely back at him.

"Bloody hurry up and snort some cocaine with me then, you bloody arsehole." Draco grinned and bumped shoulders with him, causing a slight smile to appear on Harry's face.

Harry brought the bag out, ignoring Pansy's wide-eyed expression. His mouth salivated at the sight of the white substance, and he quickly laid out lines for himself and Draco, as well as a small one for Ginny. Luna barely drank, enjoyed weed, but had enough going in her head at all times that she never felt the need to indulge heavily in anything. Pansy, it seemed, had little knowledge about muggle drugs and looked nervous to participate.

Ginny quickly snorted her little line, happily rubbing her nose afterwards and turning to Pansy to explain the feeling.

Draco went next. He did it delicately, reverently, and Harry's heart sped up as he watched the boy's finger's handle the transfigured straw as he snorted two thin lines.

Finally, it was Harry's turn, and he wasted no time. He gave himself two thick lines and the second the straw was placed in his nose, he was happy and carefree.

Three minutes later, about fifty people swarmed through the doors, and Harry was there, greeting them gleefully and ignoring when they told them pleasantries about the War.

Harry refilled his drink, but was pulled by the arm by Draco to the poker table where Pansy, strangely, had just stood up. She tapped on the side of a champagne glass and the mass of people quieted.

Harry caught Hermione's eye and smiled at her. She was accompanied by Dean and Neville (who had Hannah Abott holding his hand), and Ginny was flanking her.

"Hello everyone! Happy Halloween to you all!" Pansy began, stopping to let cheers ring out. "I know some words were said at the Feast earlier tonight, but I thought it may be nice to honor some others specifically."

Harry blushed. _Oh no. Not this shite._

"I have six bottles of champagne up here. I will call out five people in the room who were vital to the Battle and War, and they in turn will dedicate their bottle to someone not with us anymore and pop it open. Then I will dedicate the last bottle, and we can get down to partying.

"Now, I'm not as eloquent as the illustrious Draco Malfoy, but the reason I'm speaking is because he is one of the five people." At this, she tossed a bottle to Malfoy, who caught it gracefully, his cheeks tinged pink.

"This sneaky Slytherin bastard had everyone fooled since fourth year, when he began to have his doubts about his upbringing. However, he told no one and acted as the dutiful Death Eater son, until the Battle was upon us. He used that ruse to apprehend many, since all underestimated the fifth year that was destined to join the Dark Lord's ranks," she raised her glass, "to you, Draco Malfoy."

All around people clapped and cheered and sipped their drinks. Draco contemplatively looked at his bottle, ignoring those around him.

"I dedicate this bottle to Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius Black, family members that I never got the chance to experience as family, but word has it were some of the best people to have on your side." Draco shook his bottle ferociously and popped it open, letting the spray cascade into the sky.

People whooped and cheered loudly, but when Pansy started speaking again, Harry felt the warmth of Draco's hand in his own.

"Ginny Weasley, the only fourteen year old to ever hold their own against Bellatrix Lestrange, and the one ultimately responsible for her arrest. A truly amazing feat by itself, but you are even more amazing when people realize everything else you did during the Battle. Your care and compassion showed as you and your mother set up a makeshift hospital within the first hour, patching up light wounds and flooing serious injuries back to Hogwarts or St. Mungos. You went on rescue missions to retrieve the injured, risking your own life to save others. You are truly a hero," Pansy finished with a flourish, but Harry could hear the raw emotion in her voice.

Ginny caught the bottle, shook it hard, and yelled, "Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts Hero," causing the room to erupt. Draco's hand squeezed tighter. Harry felt like there was no air left in the room.

"Alright, alright. This one goes out to someone that I can't throw the bottle to because he probably won't catch it," Pansy said. All eyes shot to Neville who blushed deeply. "Neville Longbottom spent his years in Gryffindor being told he didn't deserve to be there. Well, he fucking slayed the Dark Lord's giant snake, so me and everyone else who used to say that had to eat our words.

"He was clever during the Battle. He felled a building on a swarm of Death Eaters, guys. That's like six injured in one go. That was a fifth year's idea. Pass this bottle over to him," Pansy handed the bottle down and it was passed to Neville who took it delicately.

Neville raised it in the air and waited for the crowd to quiet down. "To Lily and James Potter, for their brave sacrifice to keep the Light alive so many years ago."

Harry pulled his hand away from Draco and bunched it into a fist. He locked eyes with Neville and nodded his appreciation. He had been dreading having to say it; to bring up their sacrifice that more often than not, Harry wished they had not done.

"Alright, on to the smartest witch at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger is a fierce competitor in the classroom, but that's nothing compared to the battlefield. Out there, she stood her ground and protected all she could while also completing what is rumored to be some shady tasks for Dumbledore that ultimately helped lead to the downfall of You-Know-Who. While the general public was not informed, trust me when I tell you that seeing this girl covered in blood, sweat, and dirt while disarming Death Eaters and carrying a giant snake fang is quite intimidating. Cheers to you, Granger!"

Harry clapped loudly as Hermione clasped her bottle proudly. She was dressed in high-waisted jeans with a button up tucked in, but Harry had no idea who she was supposed to be.

"This is for Percy Weasley; an amazing student and prefect here at Hogwarts who showed bravery and loyalty throughout. But more importantly, he was an incredible brother and son to his family, who miss him dearly and love him very much. He is a great role model to all students."

Ginny threw her arms around Hermione as the cheers went up and Hermione popped her champagne. Harry was struggling hard now as he heard about all those who had gone; all those who didn't have to have died.

"Finally, ahem," Pansy said, drawing attention back, "Harry Potter. There is a lot we could say, but many have done it before and many will do it again. Instead, I am happy that you came back from the dead or whatever so that we could have a second chance to be friends. Catch, mate," Pansy threw the bottle to him and Harry grabbed it around the neck. It was silent as people waited for his dedication.

"Er, alright. This probably won't be very popular, but I don't always do what's very popular it seems," Harry rubbed the back of his neck as a few laughs rang out, but mostly it was tense silence. "This isn't necessarily for the dead, but more for the families from the other side that had siblings or parents or children die or get put in Azkaban or are even on the run because they were Death Eaters. Losing family is hard, regardless of all their flaws, and awful politics, and we seem to gloss over that in favor of talking about the heroes. And, I don't know, I just think sometimes we should remember that almost everyone was affected in some way, regardless of the side. And sometimes, treating them nicely will make them more receptive to understanding our principles, while treating them like trash will make them angrier. So, this is for the other side's families that were caught in the crossfire that are hurting, just like we are."

He shook the bottle and popped it, expecting silence. Slowly, a few people started clapping, and then more and more.

"Alright, shut up everyone. He's great, we know," Pansy called out, but her eyes looked a little red and Harry glanced at Draco quickly. He mouthed the words "Her brother," and Harry understood. Sometimes he forgets that all the Slytherins in his life have Dark families or histories. Zabini is the only one who jokes about it because he and his mother were neutral in the war; she just has had many, many husbands.

"So, this final bottle is for Hogwarts, who did not allow any third years out of the castle that day, much to the confusion of staff and students. She also protected them while the Dark Lord attempted to break the wards, and throughout the Battle that was only just down the hill. So, to Hogwarts, forever our protector!"

She shook the bottle violently and sprayed it out over everyone, yelling "Go party now!" Draco flicked his wand at the record player, starting the music, and people started grouping back together and dancing or talking. Blaise helped Pansy down from the table and they headed over to Draco and Harry.

"You did a good job Pansy," Harry said, smiling at her weakly and offering her the champagne bottle.

"Thanks," she said, sounding exhausted, "It's hard doing that." She took a swig from the bottle and passed it back. Blaise smiled at Harry, showing off long, menacing looking silver fangs.

"Woah, Blaise, what the fuck are you?" Harry looked at his full outfit. He was wearing just black jeans and a black shirt, but had similar metal looking nails as well.

"I am an Asanbosam," he leered, "just be glad I dressed as the modern version."

"What is that?" Draco asked, "A vampire?"

"Tsk, tsk, little European boys," Blaise laughed. "Yes, you could say that. They have iron fangs and iron hooks for feet. They hang from branches in the Ghanaian jungles and attack from above by ripping out their throat with their hook feet and iron teeth."

"That is so much scarier that regular vampires," Pansy laughed, lifting Blaise's lip to get a closer look.

"You're a European boy too," Draco said slowly.

"Yes, but I have roots in Ghana and have been raised with some knowledge. Plus, I like to read about myths, as you know." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Anyway, did you see who I convinced to come?"

Draco leaned in interestedly, but Harry just looked confused.

"Who?" He asked, rolling his eyes when Blaise shot him an exasperated look.

"Our dearest, shyest, most confused Theodore Nott, son of vicious and still at large Death Eater. The kind of father that would have no problem killing his son if it got back to him that Theo came to a gay party hosted by Light child Harry Potter and traitor Draco Malfoy," Blaise replied snippily.

"Oi, I don't know anything," Harry held up his hands.

"Obviously, Potter," Pansy sighed, patting him on his back. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'll leave you to your Slytherin gossip, then. Come take shots with me soon," he wiggled his eyebrows at Pansy, making her smirk.

Harry felt Draco watch him walk away, but made his way to the drinks table regardless. He set his champagne bottle down and grabbed the gin instead, topping off his cup with that and some FizzForever.

"Party man, how goes it?" A voice came from above, making Harry cringe.

"Hullo, Ernie," Harry said dryly, acknowledging the boy that always loved to converse with him. He acknowledged the Hufflepuffs behind him as well.

"It feels like a good night, tonight, don't you think?" Ernie asked, taking a seat right beside Harry, so close that their thighs brushed each other.

"Er, guess so," Harry shrugged, lighting up a joint. "What's your costume?"

The boy was dressed in all green robes and a silver tie. Rather drab, but Harry wasn't much a fan of dressing up either.

"I'm a Slytherin tonight," Ernie laughed, spreading his arms.

Harry gave a weak chuckle, but he could smell the boy's heavy cologne and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Luckily, he saw Ginny heading over and made a face at her, causing her to skip to his rescue.

"Oi, Potter, emergency bathroom talk," she drawled, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "Sorry guys."

"Thank you, thank you," Harry whispered as they made their way through the crowd. She deftly stole the joint from his hand and inhaled, exhaling in his face.

"'Course, mate. He's always all over you. Bit desperate, really."

Harry shrugged. He didn't think that Ernie really wanted anything, _ya know, sexual,_ with him, but he was annoying.

"Do you think Hermione came with Dean?" Ginny asked, as they ducked inside the bathroom and she slid onto the sink counter. Her voice was airy and disinterested, but Harry knew better.

"I dunno. It seems like he and Neville are the only people from my year left in the Tower that are any good so they probably hang out a good deal. Maybe they just walked together since Neville came with Hannah?"

"Yeah, maybe," Ginny said, taking a gulp from her cup and passing the joint back to Harry. He inhaled hard.

"Ya know, in all our years as friends, Hermione has only ever shown interest in Krum. I don't know what that means, or if it means anything, I'm just telling you."

Ginny took another gulp.

Then, in a small voice, she said, "I know its probably hopeless."

"Maybe not hopeless," Harry said, at a loss. He didn't know shite about this kind of thing. _No one loves me. No one has ever loved me._

"It kind of is. There's like a three percent chance she could ever like me like that, ya know? Maybe I'll look around tonight, see if anyone else is interested?"

Ginny's voice still sounded so low and sad, but Harry nodded encouragingly, passing her the joint and beaming that she had to smile a little bit.

"Oi, hurry up in there," a voice came from outside the door. Ginny and Harry giggled but departed back into the crowd. They tapped their glasses together and tossed the rest of their drinks back and headed to the sofa, which was, gratefully, clear of Hufflepuffs.

Ssssss

12:13. "Another!" Shouted Pansy, pounding the shot glass on the table. Ginny giggled hysterically and poured vodka into it. Harry held his out, but then poured half of it into Draco's.

"Hey, I didn't agree to this!"

"I think you did when you dressed up as me, you prat," Harry said, shooting a look at the fake scar on Draco's head. Draco petulantly stuck out his tongue but took the shot with the group.

"Water break for me," Harry said, filling up his glass and chugging the whole thing, then refilling it and taking a small sip. Draco followed suit, wisely.

Harry was feeling good. He had been drinking a lot of water and a lot of alcohol, but wasn't feeling sloppy yet. He had split many joints with Draco or Ginny. So far, so good.

He surveyed the crowd. A group of rowdy seventh year Ravenclaws were taking shots by the skate ramps, while one, the team's seeker, was doing backflips off the halfpipe and miraculously landing. The boy was small and agile, but magic surely played a part.

A few fifth year Puffs were smoking in the far corner, awkwardly making eyes at each other and half-heartedly dancing.

Sixth and seventh year students littered the dance floor; some smoothly twisting and turning with their partners, some just swaying, grinding, and making out.

Slytherins and Ravenclaws were dominating the poker table, occasionally interrupted by a Gryffindor brave enough to dive into that pit of hell.

At their table, things were a little interesting. Hermione was sitting on Dean's lap comfortably, as if they did it every day. Ginny, from the opposite chair, was being loud and funny and completely heartbroken. However, Pansy, in her sheer, flowy gown, was sitting on Ginny's lap with her arm around her neck, acting very casual.

Ginny's hand would occasionally tinker with the fabric on Pansy's thigh, then release it as if it burned, then slowly start to mess with it again.

Neville and Hannah were sitting on the new couch RoRi had sent in, snuggling warmly. They were very sweet. Neville was dressed in all green with tentacles and blossoms coming off his tee shirt and pants. Hannah was dressed in all blue, as a rain drop to water the plant. It was quite dorky, but very charming.

Draco was beside Harry, as usual. They bickered and giggled at each other, as usual. They brushed up against each other, switched positions often to be closer, and playfully pushed each other, all as usual.

Blaise was sitting in a chair next to the quiet Theodore Nott, chatting to him, but not receiving a lot back. Nott was stringy looking in appearance, with long dark locks and blue eyes. He looked skittish, as if he could run away at any moment.

He reminded Harry of himself in a lot of ways. This party just happened to be Harry's element; drugs, alcohol, music, and his drunk, goofy friends made it fun for him. Nott seemed on the verge of a heart attack.

In classes, the boy was quietly confident however. Maybe it was just because his dad would come after him if he found out, though Harry had been told that Nott Sr. was in Russia seeking refuge.

Harry shrugged and turned to the small chest at his feet. He pulled out the small baggie of coke and waved it in Draco's face. He smiled eagerly, leaning in close to Harry's face in his excitement.

"Oi, boys, is that more fun?" Ginny called out.

"It is indeed, my dear," Draco bowed to her and Pansy, causing them to giggle. "You can have some if you drink a cup of water first," Harry said, raising his eyebrows and smirking at the drunken girls.

"Pansy," Ginny said, deathly seriously, "Please pour me a glass of water."

Pansy rolled her eyes, but Harry passed her the pitcher and she and Ginny each had glasses while Draco and Harry finished theirs off as well.

Harry cleared off space on the table and fished out his ID. He tapped out a pile and divided it into a few lines, leaving himself two big ones. He felt eyes watching him and glanced up to see Nott peering at him curiously. Harry flashed a weak smile at the boy, but turned back to his job.

"Oi, Ginny and Pansy, go on." Ginny showed Pansy how to snort, everyone laughing when the typically harsh girl rose from the table with such a dreadful face.

"That felt awful, oh Merlin. This better pay off, Potter," she threatened, rubbing her nose savagely.

"Shut it, Parkinson. It will." Ginny had resumed her seat with a smile, Pansy folding her legs back on top of the redhead sensually.

Draco leaned forward and inhaled two lines, wincing a bit. Then Harry went, feeling almost desperate to get it in his nose.

A moment later he felt that strange feeling in his brain, like a little firework, and he stretched out, arms behind his head.

"Tonight is great, guys."

Ssssss

2:36. The night was getting less great. Harry and Draco had done another two rounds of cocaine, which was amazing, but besides Harry's core group, people were starting to get on his nerves. They were wasted. People were super sloppy.

Harry didn't want to deal with other people's drunk problems.

Though he and Hermione did have a touching moment where they hugged each other tightly for what felt like an hour and didn't say anything. They just held each other. Through all the mess of this year, Harry sometimes forgets that Hermione is the best human being.

Now though, Hermione and Dean had returned to the Gryffindor Tower after consulting the Marauder's Map and finding that Snape was in the Astronomy Tower and Filch was in the Trophy Room.

A few other groups had left as well, but most were still around, lounging and dancing and laughing and drinking. At least five people had thrown up on the floor. Even though it was a quick spell to clean it, Harry didn't appreciate it.

He was feeling claustrophobic now, alarmed that people weren't turning in for the night. He and Draco had exchanged a few words with RoRi and put up the hammocks and cots, but no one was in them. Draco came up behind him now, his beanie lopsided and showing his blonde hair off.

"Merlin, Harry, people are getting rowdy," Draco commented, watching Ravenclaws slide down the halfpipe that they had slicked with marmalade.

"Where did they even get marmalade?" Draco and Harry glanced at each other and started giggling. Draco always managed to soothe Harry when he started feeling bristly.

Draco flopped onto the sofa and grabbed a joint off the table. "Man, this was a good party. I wish we could do this every weekend."

"How about every other weekend, ya know. Make sure we aren't too suspicious," Harry grinned at him and took his seat beside him, nabbing the joint from his fingers.

"That sounds good to me," Ginny said from the chair she and Pansy were still in.

"No, you guys don't get to talk until you stand up. I thought you were dead because you've been in that chair so long," Draco sneered, waving his hands at them dramatically.

"You are such a baby, Draco," Pansy rolled her eyes, but undraped herself from Ginny's form. "Pour me a drink, blondie."

Draco wrinkled his nose at her, but grabbed her cup and refilled it, doing the same for himself and Harry too. Ginny took the opportunity to light a fresh joint, blowing the smoke into the back of Pansy's dark hair.

Harry chugged half his glass with a flourish, feeling better now that he was back at his table around his friends.

"Alright, so," Blaise said a bit unsteadily, "I love drinking."

"Merlin," Pansy giggled, "that was a revolutionary statement. But the real question is, _who_ do you love?"

"You already know, Pans," Blaise whined, his voice going much higher than Harry thought possible. Draco snorted into his cup.

"Yeah, Pans," he said, as if it was obvious, throwing his hand out and gesturing at Zabini's petulant expression, "he has been in love for like two years. Too bad she's taken."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Blaise said, standing unsteadily and heading off across the room to a group of fifth year Slytherins.

"What was that about?" Ginny asked, eyebrows high.

"Trust me, you do not want to know about the complexities of Blaise Zabini's emotions," Pansy replied. "But looks like we are about to hear about a Hufflepuff's."

Their heads spun to look where Pansy's eyes were. Heading their way was Ernie, of course. He was flanked by others in his house, but had his eyes on Harry.

"Bloody hell," Draco scowled deeply.

"Keep calm, Draco," Pansy scolded, "We have talked about this." Harry glanced at her, but her eyes were trained on Ernie's approaching form.

"Hullo Harry, hullo, er, everyone," Ernie said, barely looking at the rest of the group.

"Hey Ernie," Harry said, getting that claustrophobic feeling he gets when someone trains their eyes on him. He picks up his glass and drains it, feeling it rush to his head. He pours more gin in.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you alone, actually?" The boy's cheeks are red, and he's sweating. He looks nervous, but determined. Harry glances around at the crowded, open room.

"There's not really anywhere to go, mate?" Harry's voice feels small and he can tell that everyone is staring at them, analyzing their interaction.

"Just in the corridor for a moment. It won't take long. I promise," Ernie pleads this time. Harry hears Pansy say something under her breath and sees Ginny elbow her in the ribs.

"Er, okay. Meet me at the door in two minutes, okay?" Ernie grins, and it's wide and toothy and suddenly Harry wants to stay on the sofa forever. Ernie departs, gratefully, and after making sure no one was paying attention outside of his group, he pulls the Marauder's Map from his bag.

"You know you don't have to," Draco says, swirling his glass hard enough that liquid is coming out.

"He just wants to talk," Harry shrugs, scanning the map for professors or Filch. "Okay, Snape is on the fourth floor and no one else is out. If I'm not back in like thirty minutes, go get Snape."

"I don't trust Ernie," Draco sneered. "He's a total prat. You know he just wants to-"

"Stop it, Draco," Pansy snapped. Harry looked between the two of them, slightly alarmed. "Just go, Potter. And don't be an idiot."

"Er, right. Okay." Harry threw back his drink, let it sink in for a moment, tucked a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket, and headed to the door.

"Thanks, Harry, this won't take long," Ernie smiles that big smile again and pushes the door open.

The corridor is refreshingly cool compared to the heat from all the bodies inside RoRi. The quiet is somewhat disturbing, though it is good to know how well the silencing charms work.

Ernie, instead of starting the conversation immediately, turns and heads down the corridor, forcing Harry to follow. He turns a corner and walks a little farther. Harry is feeling more and more nervous.

Finally, Ernie stops and turns, but does so sharply and in a way that makes it so that Harry is against the wall. _Okay. This is just Hufflepuff Ernie. No biggie. Snape is three floors down. The back staircase is about eight yards away. I'm psyching myself out._

"So, um, Ernie, what did you want to talk about?" Harry questions, suddenly aware of the four inches the boy has on him. _He's much broader too. And I still have my glamours on, so I'm even more pathetic looking._

"Harry, I didn't really want to talk," Ernie takes a step closer, his face leaning down to Harry's. Harry feels sick, feels stuck.

"Wh-what?" In answer, Ernie presses against Harry, pushing his body into the wall and latches his lips onto his. It's wet and hot and toothy. Harry feels completely frozen as Ernie grinds against him, pushing him harder against the wall, shoving his tongue into Harry's mouth.

Ernie then tries to nibble Harry's lip, making Harry react for the first time. He tries to push Ernie away, but the boy resists and bits Harry's lip, hard enough to make it bleed, and Harry twists his neck, making it worse. He feels skin open up under Ernie's teeth. He smells the alcohol and sweat and musky cologne on the boy and it makes him nauseous.

"St-stop," he whimpers, pushing back harder. Ernie shoves Harry hard then, grabs Harry through his pants and squeezes, kissing him roughly through the blood before leaning back to look at Harry.

"I thought you wanted it," Ernie says, breathing heavily. Harry pushes again, this time catching Ernie off guard and making him stumble backward.

Harry runs.

Back staircase. Down and down the flights of stairs, he can hear his footsteps echoing madly in the empty castle. He can't tell if there are others though, he just keeps running.

Until his foot tangles one step before a landing and he crashes. Adrenaline helps him up, though alcohol wants him down. He staggers into the corridor, the second floor, he thinks, and slides down against a wall.

He leans over and throws up.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He slides away from his alcohol vomit, though he can feel it on his shirt anyway. Harry feels so angry and scared and he can't see a foot ahead of him.

He pounds the floor with his fists. It feels good. It feels exhausting. He does it a few more times and then slams his head backwards into the stone.

"Fuck this. Fuck. Please, please," Harry begs, unaware of the tears trickling down his face. His vision is blurry and spotted.

Dragon hide boots appear before him, and then he's flying very gently. He knows he's safe though, because he smells bay leaves and shrivelfigs and cinnamon.


	20. Chapter 20

_Hey guys! This is a direct continuation from last chapter! This is also the quickest I think I've ever updated. Your reviews were amazing, thank you, thank you! I know Snape is even more out of character here, but he is exhausted and stressed and worried. There's a lot more to "this" day, it'll just be in the next chapter and I'm working on it. Please, please let me know how I'm doing. Thank you!_

"Not Hos Wing," Harry mumbles, eyes still firmly closed.

"Where to then, child?"

"Sna's. It's nice there. Warm. He's mah protector, didya know?" Harry burrowed his head into the soft fabric by his head.

"I know, child. I'll take you there. We need to get you cleaned up."

"No one but Sna can see," Harry mumbled. "He's okay cause he's seen before and he's mine, y'know?"

"He's yours?"

"Yeah. Like Draco's mom is his and Ron has a whole family. I don't get anyone though, so don't tell him or he'll go away."

"I won't tell him. However, I think you have a concussion."

"Maybe. I'm tired. How much longer?" Harry gripped the fabric in his hand loosely.

"We're here, Harry. I'm going to put you on the sofa and fix you up." Harry was gently laid down on his sofa and he immediately curled his body into it.

"Only Snape can," he muttered. He heard someone sigh, then walk away. He was almost asleep when footsteps came back in.

"Harry, I'm going to fix your lip, your ankle, your hands, and your head. Is that okay?"

"Snape?"

"Yes, can you roll onto your back or do you need help?" Harry drowsily shifted how Snape wanted him. It brought a wave of nausea, however, but Harry took a deep breath and held it in.

His eyes opened as Snape fixed his ankle. It didn't hurt much, was obviously just a little sprain. The man did something to his head that made it feel a bit better, a little less foggy, but told him he had to repeat the spell every hour for the next four hours.

"I'm not sure what to do with your lip, Harry," Snape said, his voice oddly soft.

"Jus' leave it," Harry groaned. "I deserve it," he tried to turn back into the pillows, but Snape placed a hand on his chest, centering him.

"That is not true. We will discuss it in the morning. For now, I am going to sit you in the shower, and then let you go to sleep. Do you need help standing?"

Harry struggled into a seating position, but let Snape help him up and into the bathroom. Snape plopped him onto the toilet lid and eyed him.

"You're wearing pants, correct?"

"Yes!" Harry answered with as much energy as he could muster.

"You never know. Now, take off your shirt. I'm going to remove your shoes and jeans and give you my swimming trunks for the shower. Is that satisfactory?"

Harry nodded glumly and struggled to remove his shirt, somehow getting it tangled in his hair and sending his glasses flying across the tile.

Snape had simply done a spell to take off his boots and socks, and another to replace his jeans with the swimming trunks.

The water was turned on with a flick of a wand and Snape conjured a chair for Harry to sit on under the stream. The sight of it made something click in Harry's mind.

"Wait, no, I don't want a shower," Harry said, trembling as he stood to back away. _He'll see the scars all on my arms and shoulders. I can't let him. He will be so disappointed and angry and he won't let me come back._

"Your glamours are already off, Harry. How do you think I healed you?" Harry's hands shot to his upper arms, covering the rows of lines littered there.

"I've already seen them, Harry. We will talk in the morning. You need this shower, though. You're still drunk; you're covered in dirt, blood, and vomit. I placed a charm on your hand and lip so the water will slow around them and gently wash those areas." Snape was gentle, but still no-nonsense. He held out a hand and Harry tentatively took it. Snape steered him into the shower and put him on the seat, handing him a wet flannel and a bar of soap.

"Do you need help?" Harry shook his head and numbly began to wash his arms and chest and face. His lip stung even with the charm, but Harry didn't care.

 _He knows. He knows and he's going to tell me that I'm disgusting and should leave him alone and I'm not worth his time._ Tears were running down Harry's face, mixing in with the warmth of the shower spray. _And then I'll be alone again._

"Harry," Snape reentered the room, from where, Harry didn't know. "Are you ready to get out?"

Harry didn't reply, just stared ahead, the tears continuing. The dark haired man pulled Harry up and out, casting a drying charm on the boy. Snape handed over a pair of black sweatpants and a dark gray jumper, which Harry numbly pulled on.

The shower had made Harry's body feel more alive, but his mind was very far away.  
"Harry, Harry!" Harry swung his head up to look at Snape. The man was ghostly pale and his dark eyes looked almost frightened.

"Sir?"

"Would you like to go get on the sofa and get some rest?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, bowing his head again. He could feel Snape's eyes on him and resisted the urge to lash out.

Instead, he dutifully followed the professor back to the sitting room.

"Would you like some Dreamless Sleep?" Snape asked as he gathered Harry's blanket from a trunk in the corner. Harry always wondered where the blanket and pillow came from.

"Yes, sir." Snape _accio_ ed a bottle from somewhere and handed it to him.

"Harry, I'm not sure exactly what happened tonight, but we will sort it out in the morning. I want you to get a good night's sleep, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded dully. Snape seemed to cringe, but nodded regardless. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, jarring the boy a bit before he leaned into it.

"Goodnight, child."

"Goodnight, sir."

Harry threw back the potion, crawled onto the sofa, tucked himself towards the cushions, and closed his eyes.

Sssss

Severus lay awake the majority of the night. He casts the charm on the child four more times, and sits watching Harry Potter's body rise and fall with his breath. Severus Snape was terrified. His heart was still beating far too fast. His hands were shaking.

He had failed. He had no idea what trouble Harry was in, only that Harry had gotten himself out of it. Severus had heard footsteps pounding down the far West staircases and followed. It had been nearing 3 AM, the time he had told himself he would retire to bed.

He thought he was following a reckless Hufflepuff back to their common room from the boys' party.

He heard a thud, rolled his eyes, and a few minutes later had entered the second floor corridor where he was sure the noise had come from. He stopped in his tracks at the entranceway and watched as a mess of a boy slammed his head backward into the stone wall. And then he ran to Harry and erased his glamour.

Clearly drunk, clearly high, and clearly had just been bitten by someone that Severus would seek out and rip limb from limb, Harry was sitting five inches away from a pool of liquid vomit. He was dirty from his fall. Blood trickled down his chin and chest, unfortunately mixed with vomit that reeked of liquor.

The boy looked dazed, had slipped his head to the ground and had no objection to Severus scooping him up in his arms delicately.

And then they had a very strange conversation; a conversation in which Harry claimed Severus as his in the way that families did. And then proceeded to tell him to keep it quiet because Harry believed he wasn't allowed to have anyone. Harry then called Severus his protector, even though he did not realize he was speaking to Severus.

Severus had patched Harry up and put him in a shower. He pretended to not see the boy cry. He saw the scars; the dozens of small slices covering the child's upper arms, their colors ranging from red to white. It made Severus' heart stop.

It made him want to cry, it made him want to yell, it made him want to throw things, it made him want to do the same to himself, but most of all, it made him want to wrap Harry in a hug and tell him bullshit pleasantries that he himself never appreciated or liked.

Instead, he put a hand on his shoulder and sent him to bed. Conversations could wait.

Severus spent the hours in the armchair, staring at the boy, or in his bed, staring at his sleeping lover. He debated waking Remus several times. Instead, he counted, or solved math problems, or thought of the recipes of very difficult potions. And he stared at Remus. He looked at the largest scar that slashed across his cheek, over his full lips, and ended at the edge of his chin. He studied the other scars, the pale white ones that decorated his lover's face.

Scars, scars, scars. The ones on Harry's arm flash in his mind every time he closes his eyes. They rearrange themselves to write the word FAILURE. They make Severus' own scars burn in acknowledgment.

The hours tick by.

Around 8 AM, Remus begins to stir. He cracks one golden eye open, and is obviously startled to find his boyfriend staring at him blankly.

"Sev?" He groans. He opens his eyes wider and blinks a few times, stretching his limbs out, not unlike a canine. Severus doesn't make fun of him this morning.

"What's going on?" Remus is becoming more alert, recognizing there is something wrong.

"Harry's on the sofa," Severus says, emotionless.

"Is he injured?"

"A bit. He'll be hungover and his hands will probably hurt. I gave him Dreamless Sleep." Remus placed his palm against Severus' cheek.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

"How much longer until he wakes?"

"I gave him the potion a bit before 4. It works for at least five hours, but I would not be surprised if he slept for much longer."

"Tell me." Remus pulled Severus closer, placing Severus' head on his broad chest and wrapping his arms around him.

"They threw a party, ridiculous teenagers. I found Harry on the second floor. He banged his head against the wall. He had thrown up. It looked like someone had attempted to do _something_ with him. His mouth was cut and bleeding and his shirt was wrinkled and twisted. I brought him here. I cleaned him up, put him in a shower, put him to bed."

"There's more," Remus whispered into the top of Severus' head. Severus pressed his head harder into his chest, listening for the deep thud of the heartbeat.

"He has scars. On his upper arms." There was silence, and then Remus placed a hand on Severus' hip, where the old wounds had been pulsing for hours. Severus nodded into Remus' nightshirt. Remus kissed the top of Severus' head gently and held him tight, one arm secure around his back, and the other pressed against his hip, rubbing small circles.

"I love you," Remus whispered, some time later. Severus nodded and gripped the man tighter. "You are surprisingly perfect for Harry to talk to."

Severus shook his head. "Yes, you are," Remus continued, "You are both so similar. It is rather surprising how I didn't see it before."

"You don't know the half of it," Severus muttered sleepily into his chest. The hand on his back stopped moving. _Shit._

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, Remus. Keep doing that thing with your hand," Severus replied arching his back a bit.

"No, seriously, Sev. What do you mean?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell yet," Severus grumbled.

"It's not…is it?"

Severus didn't answer. He felt all the muscles in Remus' body tense harshly, and hastily started rubbing the man's shoulders. He lifted his head and looked into Remus' face, slightly alarmed to see just how furious the man seemed.

"You didn't tell me?"

"No, Remus, I did not tell you a very important secret that a very scared and lonely student STILL hasn't told me but I have figured out. He knows I know, and begged me to keep my mouth shut."

"Harry is _my_ cub!" Remus was sitting up now, Severus' body sliding off. The werewolf was in full protective mode, but was angry. His eyes were golden and enraged, his hair was sticking up, and there was a slight growl emitting from his chest. "And you kept his safety a secret from me!"

"Oh, shut it, Remus. You can act like the big, bad wolf all you want with me, but if you go into alpha protector mode around Harry, I will strike you down so fast you'll be running into the woods with your tail tucked between your legs," Severus snarled, furious at his oaf of a partner. He stood and pointed a finger at the man who was still exhibiting classic alpha bullshit signs.

"I have spent every day with this child and know for a fact that if you played this card with him, puffed up and angry that he didn't tell you something that he has surely never told anyone; something that he is safe from for another few months, all after not speaking to him for a _year_ , he would become just as scared of you. Look at yourself, right now. He barely lets Draco Malfoy touch him and Draco his hardly bigger than a butterfly."

"How come he lets _you_ touch him?" There was a mix of jealousy and accusation in his tone.

 _This, this is why I hate when he is full alpha mode: this faux masculine rubbish thinly veiled over his own insecurities. This is the hardest part of dating a bloody werewolf-man-idiot._

Severus walked up to Remus, raised his hand as if to slap him, and dropped it, staring hard into the werewolf's eyes.

"Fuck you. Get out of my rooms and get yourself sorted before you come back."

Remus sat for a second, as if his mind was finally catching up. A look of horror spread across his face.

"Wait, Sev, I'm so sorry, that's not what I meant." Remus' normal voice was back, his hair was down, and his eyes were mostly back to normal.

"Get out. Until the full moon is over tomorrow night, you are just a wolf to me; incapable of controlling oneself. Your potion will be in your room tomorrow afternoon. Now, _leave,"_ Severus said silkily.

Remus stood and looked around helplessly at all his belongings that never made it to his technical chambers on the third floor. He slipped on some shoes, looking defeated, and headed for the door.

Severus decided to make one more comment. It was one that he barely felt ready to say to himself, but one that would surely land a sting to Remus.

"Be sure not to wake _my_ child. He needs rest. Good day."

Remus' eyes widened in shock and, possibly, hope, before Severus closed the door on him.

Then Severus promptly slid down that door and cradled his head in his arms. He was completely and totally exhausted. He goes for comfort from Remus, the typical master of comfort and support and good feelings, and they end up in a massive fight.

Severus rubbed his eyes. He listened out the door, but can't hear anything. He stands, shakily, and exits; his quarters empty of the wolf.

He makes coffee. And he sips it in his chair, staring at the boy.

Sssssss

10:30AM. Harry groans, his head feeling like gravel was rolling around in it. He shifts, feeling cool air brush against his face. And then his stomach rebels and he's up, shakily, bypassing a very still Snape who merely raises his eyebrows.

Harry barely gets the door closed before he's vomiting harshly, the little in his system coming back up angrily. He coughs weakly into the toilet and wipes his stinging eyes.

Staggering to the sink, he splashes water on his face and rubs his eyes before peering into the mirror.

"Oh fuck." He looks bad. He's ghostly white, making the bags under his eyes look haunted. His lip is fucked up. It's torn, jaggedly, across the lower lip, and the wounded part is bright red. His septum piercing was crooked and crusty, and he fixes it with shaking fingers.

Slowly, he leaves the bathroom and collapses back on the sofa, his head throbbing and the memories swirling.

"Drink water, Harry," a deep voice intoned. Harry jumped.

"Shite, I forgot you were there."

"In my own home?" Harry looked up to see Snape not looking much better than himself. He was in a black tee and sweatpants, and was always kind of ghostly looking, but today had bags under his eyes as well, and his hair thrown into a messy ponytail or bun or something barely discernible. When Snape pushed a glass of water across the table, Harry noticed a trembling in the man's arm.

Harry held the glass with both hands and chugged the room temperature water as fast as he could and set it down. Snape refilled it, telling him to sip this time.

"You're dehydrated. You threw up last night as well. You also had a concussion, but I checked a half hour ago and it's clear."

Harry dropped his head in his hands. Images were coming back to him; falling in the stairwell, throwing up in the corridor, banging his head against the wall. After that, however, things get very blurry, and Harry can't remember much until…

"Fuck," he breathes.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Harry just shakes his head, stopping quickly because it hurts to do so. _Snape saw the scars. Snape saw. Snape knows._

"Harry, before I can give you potions to make your head and stomach feel better, I need to know what you consumed last night."

Harry nodded, then shook his head.

"Why are you shaking your head?"

"Deserve it," Harry muttered. He lay back down on the sofa and pulled his blanket over him. "I'm an idiot. Or, uh, what do you call us? Dunderheads?"

Snape snorted, but Harry heard him move closer.

"Typically, Harry, I would be fine letting you suffer the consequences of your hangover, however other events occurred last night that resulted in injuries. You can stay down, but you have to tell me what and how much of what you consumed."

Snape laid a hand on his shoulder. _This is the second time in like eight hours. I must look extra pathetic._ Yet, it worked on Harry.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Thank you."

"Just, please don't get too mad."

"I will not. You act as though you will surprise me. I just need to know so I can give you potions."

"Er, lots of alcohol," Harry started. He cast a look at Snape.

"What kind and how much?"

"Some champagne, but mostly vodka and gin. I don't know. I started drinking at like eight or nine and didn't stop until almost three. I mean, there were shots and mixed drinks and plenty of water as well. I kept it pretty balanced, I think."

"Balanced?"

"Ya know, like, I drank lots of water, but also smoked tons of weed to keep me chill and also snorted, um, well," Harry paused and glanced back at the Potions Master, who merely nodded at him, "I snorted quite a bit of cocaine as well."

"Anything else?"

"No," Harry said, closing his eyes against Snape's stare. _I was just a complete and total disaster and let myself get…I don't even know what happened with Ernie._

"Here; I have a headache potion, a disinfectant for your lip, and something for the damage I'm sure you're doing to the interior of your nose. Unfortunately, my stomach soothers on hand react poorly with man-made stimulants such as cocaine. I can make a different variety easily, however. The headache potion should help though."

Harry blinked and saw two vials for drinking and a jar of disinfectant. He put an elbow under himself and swallowed the two down. His headache eased up immediately and the congestion in his nose dissipated.

"Thank you. I'm really sorry I'm so much trouble," he whispered, shutting his eyes as he felt tears threaten to fall.

"Shush, child. You had a hard night. I have a few questions, but they can wait if you prefer." It was always strange hearing that deep, typically cold and cutting voice become warm and soft. It felt special to Harry. It felt like another thing that was his, in a way, just like the blanket or his mug.

And "child." He was "child." Sure, Draco was "Dragon," but he was "child." Snape only called him that when Harry was in front of the fire, being put on the sofa for the night, or being awakened in the morning. Delicate times.

Harry considered answering questions. He was exhausted and clearly emotional. However, he rather liked having that as an excuse for if he wanted to end the conversation.

"You can ask."

"Would you like some tea?"

Harry nodded, sitting up a bit more as Snape tapped on the table and tea appeared along with toast and scones.

Harry grabbed his mug and sipped the scalding liquid, letting the warmth fill his body and ground his mind.

"Does Draco have a clue where you are?"

"Shite," Harry groaned. "Wait, probably… I told him to go get you if I wasn't back in thirty minutes so he must have seen on the map that you found me."

"The map?" Snape raised an accusing eyebrow.

"Er, well, yes, you know, er," Harry motioned uselessly with one hand, as if explaining it all away, his face a pained expression.

"Don't worry, Potter, I know about the map. I just enjoyed that pathetic attempt of explanation," Snape smirked. Harry scowled, but sipped his tea instead of using his energy to say anything back.

"Now for the hard questions. Where did you go that you felt that Draco should find me if you did not return?"

Harry felt his stomach drop as his mind replayed those memories. All of a sudden, he remembered the smell of Ernie's cologne and sweat up against him and he was running to the bathroom again and kneeling in front of the toilet, dry heaving after the glass of water came up.

A moment later, a hand was rubbing circles on his back, and Harry slumped backwards into it, tears creeping out of the corners of his eyes.

"'M hot," he said, pulling at the sweater. The hands gently but firmly moved him backwards so he was sitting on the tile, leaning against the tub.

"Would you like this shirt?" Snape asked, holding out a folded black tee that he must have magicked there while Harry was clenching his eyes closed. He nodded and furtively pulled the heavy jumper off of himself. For the half second he was shirtless, Harry debated on which scars to cover: FREAK or the ones he did himself that proved that he was a freak?

And then Snape was handing the shirt over, acting completely nonchalant with it all. Harry tugged it on, feeling much better, like he could breathe again.

"Should I put you back to bed?" Snape asked, half softly, but the other half was almost a dare, at least to Harry's ears. Harry shook his head stubbornly.

"No, but can we stay in here?"

"Of course. Just say the word and we can stop."

"I don't want this to be official," Harry stated, raising his head to look up at Snape, "I don't want you to turn him over to Dumbledore or anything."

"Harry-" Snape started, voice questioning.

"No. I don't want that. It'll just be another thing to add to my freak factor, okay? I don't want everyone to know about it," Harry said, his voice as steady as it had been all morning. "Shake on it." He held out his hand, ignoring the trembling, and Snape slowly took it.

"If you change your mind, I will, of course, help you in any way you wish," Snape said, peering at Harry sharply. "And do not say freak."

Harry huffed.

"Ernie Macmillan. He asked to talk. Went to corridor. He pushed me against wall, kissed me, bit me." Harry stared down at the floor, his stomach raging at the smells and images and feelings. Especially of his tongue in his mouth and when he bit him and Harry turned, creating the mark on his face currently.

"Did he, ah, do anything, or attempt to do anything else?" For some reason, Harry always appreciated when Snape was awkward. It made things easier.

Right now though, the feeling of Ernie grabbing Harry through his jeans made Harry lean forward into the toilet again, dry heaving painfully. Snape's hands were once more on his back, but this time also cupping his head gently, soothing him. After Harry was done and was simply panting into the bowl, Snape tilted him back onto his arse and gave him another glass of water.

Harry sipped it slowly, and glanced up at Snape. He looked completely terrified, as if something like that happening to Harry was the worst thing that could happen to Snape.

"He just like, tried to grope me," Harry rasped, "through my jeans. But I pushed him off and ran. And here I am." Harry dug his fingernails into his palms harshly, feeling the urge to cry again and also to throw something.

Fingers uncurled his gently and Harry blinked through the tears, noticing his nails had drawn blood.

Snape, solemnly, held out his left arm, Dark Mark up. Harry looked at him, confused.

"Hold onto me," he said simply.

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry choked out, hands automatically curling back in themselves. Snape stopped them and placed them on the Dark Mark.

"My nerve endings are dead along the Mark. I can't feel anything. It's okay. I can easily fix it with a spell." Snape locked eyes with Harry and nodded, telling him again that it was safe.

Harry clenched his right hand hard around Snape's arm and let the tears flow down his cheeks. Harry's other hand was picked up and squeezed tightly, but gently, this time by the other man seeking comfort.

It was a long time before they got up.


	21. Chapter 21

_Hello everyone! So, I'm from the States (if you couldn't tell), and what happened in Orlando has really slowed me down. It probably also has something to do with the direction this chapter takes the story (as in: dark and angsty). In short, it is the return of stupid, sad Harry. Don't hate me! I'm sorry this one is shorter, also. Let me know your feelings. And don't worry, it won't stay this way forever!_

11:49 AM. "Harry, let me help you up." Severus had realized the boy had been drifting back to sleep the past few minutes as the grip in his hand had lessened. He really couldn't feel the nails that he was sure were digging into the Dark Mark.

"M'kay, Sna," Harry mumbled, his head tilted sideways onto Snape's chest. Severus tilted him back against the tub and stood, stretching out after sitting on the floor of his bathroom for so long.

"Wake up for just a moment," Severus said, bending and placing his hands under the boy's armpits. Harry blinked a bit but shifted enough so that his feet were under him, and Severus lifted up. He put Harry's arm around his shoulder, and Severus put his own around Harry's torso and walked him back to the sofa.

Severus tucked the blanket around him, and watched as the boy resumed sleeping deeply. And he plotted Macmillan's demise.

Only for thirty minutes. Then a knock came at the tapestry (or rather the wall beside the tapestry, since who ever it is realized they could not get through).

Severus cast a spell at his wards that showed him it was Draco Malfoy, and allowed him access. The blonde prince sauntered through, scowling, and then stopped abruptly at the sight of Harry on the sofa.

Grey eyes traced the torn lip and Severus watched the porcelain skin turn red. Draco's hands clenched into fists. The scowl turned into something else, something deeper and desperate. He turned to Severus, eyes wide.

"Come into my lab." Draco lingered, staring at Harry's face. Snape grabbed his elbow and steered him away, into the far door down the hallway.

Once the door was closed, and he cast a silencing charm, Severus turned to Draco and nodded his head.

"What the fuck happened? His lip! Did Macmillan do this? I'm going to fucking kill him! That disgusting piece of shit! I'm going to kill him, Sev," Draco wailed, turning angrily towards his Godfather.

"You were not supposed to see, I presume," Severus said dryly. He was feeling completely worn out, and another sixteen-year-old boy full of emotions was not helping.

"You think he would have hidden this?" Severus could see tears welling up in the pale boy's eyes. "He wouldn't tell me?"

"I doubt it," Severus said. He watched Draco's face crumple farther. "Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he is embarrassed and exhausted and does not want to make a big deal out of something that will only cause more attention to what he is already struggling with. Do you understand what that means for you now?"

Draco slumped into a stool and laid his head onto the cool marble slab of counter. "It means I can't permanently spell the word 'Creep' onto his forehead."

"No," Severus said lowly, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice, "And would you really like to mimic something so close to home." He shot a look at Draco's arm, making the boy cower.

"No, sorry Sev," the boy whispered into the marble.

"Stop moping and start planning. As a professor, I can handle the academic side of things. You should figure out how to destroy the excuse of a Hufflepuff's social life. This is not the time to throw a temper tantrum; it is time to be strong and be a Slytherin. Harry doesn't want you acting petty and babying him; he wants to ignore that this happened. Tell him that you came in here and saw, but don't make it a big deal. Destroy Macmillan from the inside out, but do not bring Harry into it. Do you understand? Do not bring anger into your room. Do not bring violence into your room. Do not make it about you. Understood?"

Draco had straightened up during the rant, eyes rapt on Severus. His shoulders straightened as Severus went on and his eyes hardened into steel.

"Understood, sir." Draco's chin quivered though. Severus' thoughts briefly went to if things had gone differently; if the Dark Lord was still alive and if Draco was being recruited. _He would be awful._

"You care for him," Severus stated. Draco nodded weakly, looking at the floor. "You think you love him." Draco nodded again, softer this time.

"I was going to talk to him. I mean, I know he has a lot going on; more than just Weasel turning against him, way more. And its stuff he won't talk about. But we are close to being in some kind of relationship. But there's always some big shield there, between us. And, and, there's stuff I'm embarrassed to tell him too. Like about how my father keeps sending me mail," Draco trails off with a shrug but Severus suddenly feels the crushing feeling of being a Head of House again.

He used to feel it all the time in his first years here, when he would talk to his students and they would say small, yet remarkable things that would weigh him down for days at a time.

"Draco, Harry is," Severus struggled for a moment, "Harry is definitely struggling with things on many sides. I do not want to concern myself with the love life of teenagers, but I do," Severus struggled again, "care for both of you. Be delicate. Be slow. Be smart."

Draco nodded and wiped his eyes.

"And Draco, come to me. You do not have to hold this yourself. Rest today, get some sleep. I'll send Harry up later or maybe tomorrow if things go poorly. Come talk to me tomorrow. You know my schedule."

Draco slid his hand through his hair, but didn't respond.

"I mean it, Draco. I know better than anyone else here what the problems are with your father. Do not continue burning his letters at meal times. Talk to me."

"Okay," Draco said, almost whinging. Severus raised a dangerous eyebrow and Draco revised. "Yes, sir. I will. I just, ya know, didn't want to be a bother."

"You are not. Not to me." Severus rubbed his face and led Draco from the lab. "Now," Severus said, lowering his voice as the passed the sleeping Gryffindor and exited the tapestry, "act like a Slytherin and map out all possible retributions today. Go and get some rest." Severus put his hand on the back of Draco's head and pushed it gently.

Draco turned and smirked back at him, rubbing where he had just been pushed. "I'll do my best."

Ssssss

1:24 PM. Snape had fallen asleep. Harry had woken feeling much better, especially after chugging the large glass of water beside him. And now he was sitting and staring at his sleeping professor.

Snape was in his armchair, neck twisted uncomfortably to the side, breathing deeply. He had put on a jumper and was folded up tightly.

The Potions Master was not particularly attractive. Harry never thought of him in those terms, except in previous years when calling him something along the lines of a "greasy haired, hook nosed git."

Harry smirked and tried to imagine Snape's boyfriend. The guy was tall, but he wasn't big by any means, so Harry thinks that his boyfriend is bigger, broader. Maybe older, since Snape is such a serious guy. Definitely smart. _Not a Gryffindor_ , Harry thinks with a smirk. _Hmm… Maybe foreign; someone not involved in the war._

An image of Snape with a large, older German man appeared, making Harry snort out loud.

"It was annoying when you stared. Do not add insult to injury by laughing," Snape drawled without opening his eyes. Harry's eyes widened.

"Er, sorry, I thought you were asleep."

"It is hard to sleep when being studied," Snape replied, opening his eyes and uncurling himself. He straightened up in the chair and peered at Harry tiredly.

Even though they had gotten to know each other and spent so much time together over the past month, Snape had always seemed invincible. Now he looked completely exhausted and weary, his eyes more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen. It was unnerving to look at them because there seemed to be a lifetime of emotions in them, primarily hurt and pain.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, glancing down at his hands. They were wrapped tight around his blanket.

Snape tapped on the table and a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of water appeared along with two mugs of coffee.

"Water first, for you," the Potions Master ordered, putting a sandwich on a plate and sliding it over to Harry. Snape sipped coffee and nibbled the corner of his own sandwich quietly as Harry quickly drank another glass of water. Harry eyed the sandwich, and tentatively took a bite. It was cucumber and tomato, and Harry's stomach did not seem to mind it, so he continued taking small bites.

"Harry," Snape started, causing Harry to glance up. The man looked nervous and Harry felt his heart sink. _Here it comes._ "We still need to have one more conversation."

Harry's hands immediately went up to his arms, where the raised lines were. Snape nodded solemnly. Harry shook his head.

"No? You don't think that it garners a conversation?"

"No. It's not a big deal. Can't we just pretend you didn't see?" Harry hears the desperation in his voice, embarrassed by it but feels it can't be helped. He feels Snape looking at him long and hard and he shivers. A jumper appears and Harry tosses it over his head. Then he looks up and realizes it's the one Snape had just been wearing and sees the half moons in the man's arm from earlier. Guilt rises as he stares at the marks from his fingernails.

Harry knows he's destructive. However, it's different seeing it on someone else rather than his own flesh.

"Harry, I cannot ignore what you are doing." Snape's voice was low, from exhaustion, not in his dangerous way.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said stubbornly, averting his gaze from Snape's arm. He picked up his mug and looked into his coffee instead. _If we talk about it, he gets to say that he doesn't want me back; that it's too freaky or too much for him to handle. It's one thing to have dinner with me; it's another to try and handle whatever the fuck he calls this._ Harry's hands were trembling so much that he was causing ripples in his coffee.

"Harry, you're not in trouble," Snape says softly. Harry shakes his head. He knows he is. He won't get detention, but he will suffer consequences. "What do you think is going to happen if we talk about it?"

Harry shakes his head harder, almost violently.

"Child, please say something," Snape's voice is lower this time, the softest its ever been. And Harry looks at him with sudden clarity. Snape just put himself through a night of hell for him; Harry Potter, a boy completely unworthy of love. Snape just didn't know how unworthy he was yet. He didn't realize that he would have many more of these nights lined up if he continued playing this pity game with Harry. And Harry cared too much for the bitter bastard to let him do that. Especially when after one night down the line, he knew Snape would throw his hands up and be done with Harry.

Time to cut him off now. And Harry Potter had five full years of experience with pissing off Severus Snape. Step One: Disrespect.

"Fuck you," Harry stood, stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets.

"Excuse me?" Snape looked alarmed, almost amused by the change.

"You heard me. I didn't want to answer. Fuck off," Harry's voice was weak, but the words were there. Snape's expression hardened slightly, but became mostly puzzled. He shook his head slightly.

"Child, sit down. I don't know what you're attempting, but it is failing. If you do not wish to talk, there are better ways to go about it, _as you know."_

 _Evenings lounging in front of the fire; dinners of just stirring soup for an hour quietly; writing in my journal; reading the Runes book; Lord of the Rings; drawing; saying "pass" on a question and him allowing it; falling asleep here._ But right in front of him were the heavy bags under Snape's eyes.

"Fuck you, Snape," Harry replied, looking away from the man as he said it. He hunched his shoulders and looked around for his shoes, not seeing them anywhere. He did find his wand on the table and stuffed it into his pocket.

Snape stood, making Harry tense farther. He took a step back. Snape's face had become harder, but even more than that, it looked like it had aged immensely.

 _Look what you're doing to him._ Snape took a few steps toward him, examining him as if he was a potion ingredient of questionable quality.

"Harry, stop whatever this charade is. We do not have to talk about your self-harm right now. Just please calm down."

Snape took another few steps, hands held up. Harry wouldn't look at him, but was feeling uneasy and like his thoughts were running through his body and messing all his organs up. He felt very anxious standing all of a sudden, and it didn't help that Snape was right over him now, despite the man being one of the few that he wasn't wary of anymore.

Then Snape grasped his shoulder, and something triggered in Harry's brain, sending Harry's arms out in front of him, hard. "Don't touch me!"

Snape fell.

 _You just pushed a professor. You just pushed SNAPE. Get out. Get out!_  
Harry stood gaping a moment longer as Snape stared wide-eyed up at him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then he ran. He went out the tapestry and down the corridor; up the stairs and out the entrance doors; through the grass and finally into the Forest.

He had no shoes on. It was bloody cold. _November 1_ _st_ _._ He had just literally and figuratively pushed Snape away. He looked like total rubbish.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, leaning against a tree and sliding to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled himself close together.

 _This is for the best. This is for the best. I'm a freak. He's better off without me. This will be good for him._

Harry stayed there for much longer, until he could barely feel his toes and the sun began to set. He trudged inside after a thorough glamour charm and grinned at Draco briefly before passing out in bed before the blonde could even say a word.

Ssssssss

5:48 AM. Severus stood outside his tapestry, tapping his fingers on the edge of his thermos. He checked his watch and sighed, defeated. He placed the other thermos back inside, and continued down the corridor alone.

Sssssss

8:00AM. "Mm, Potter, we gotta get up," a voice said in Harry's ear. Harry had been awake for hours already; accustomed to swimming laps in the Great Lake by now. Instead he lay in Draco's arms and tried not to cry.

He felt exhausted. The past two days weighed on him heavily and it felt as if his chest was being crushed. _He pushed Snape._ He could never go back.

"Don't wanna," Harry whispered into the silky fabric of Draco's nightshirt. He felt the blonde's fingers run through his messy hair. It felt safe. It also felt dangerous.

"You need a haircut, mate," Draco sighed. "Five more minutes, okay?" Harry nodded into his chest, letting the steady drum of Draco's heartbeat soothe him as it had for the past two hours.

"Harry," Draco whispered some time later, his fingers moving to Harry's bony back and making small circles. "Let's get up. We're gonna be late."

"It's DADA and it's the full moon," Harry groaned, "It doesn't matter." Draco chuckled, the reverberations feeling good against Harry's nose.

"Get up, get up, Scarhead," Draco said, stretching away from Harry finally, making the dark haired boy groan in anger. He did not want to get up from bed. He didn't want to face anyone today.

Harry rolled off the bed, checking the time on Draco's ornate, jeweled clock.

"Shite. We might be late." He lazily raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

"Well, someone wouldn't move," Draco accused, moving around the room quickly, grabbing clothes and books.

Harry just took off the sweatpants and pulled on jeans, leaving on Snape's sweater. He stuffed his books in his bag and saw that Snape had sent up his clothes, neatly folded, beneath his Doc Martens. He slid on the boots, laced them up and got a to-go coffee from the table.

He lit a cigarette.

"We're late! How are you smoking!" Draco yelled, grabbing his bag and rushing to the door. Harry followed, still smoking.

"No one will be in the back staircase. By the time we get there, I'll be done," Harry smirked, exhaling on Draco. The blonde rolled his eyes but hurried out, Harry following behind him.

They flew down the staircases, reaching the third floor with Draco only having stumbled once. Harry had been right, though. This close to the bell, coming from the seventh floor, no one had been in the back staircase. He banished the cigarette just as the bell rang and Draco swore.

"We're two yards away," Harry laughed, opening the door for the blonde prince. They entered, sliding into their seats that were luckily directly beside the door.

"How thoughtful of you to join us, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Snape sneered. The class snickered, but Harry blocked them out. His eyes widened at the man, then ducked his head as Snape turned to look at him.

"I think two points off from each house should do it," Snape said. "Now, back to today's lesson, before we were so rudely interrupted."

Harry sunk low into his desk, cheeks on fire. Draco had already taken out his notes and positioned them correctly and was writing down whatever Snape was saying. Harry, on the other hand, stared at his desk and ignored what was going on.

Until a hand slammed down on his desk, giggling erupting from the classroom as he jumped, wincing as he looked up into dark eyes. _There are still bags. He's still exhausted. I pushed him._

"Mr. Potter, the class has been trying to get your attention for some time now. Can you tell me the correct way to deal with inferi?"

"No," Harry mumbled, looking back down at his desk. The class grew silent again.

"Another five points from Gryffindor for being woefully unprepared, and do stay after for a moment, Mr. Potter," Snape said, turning on his heel and marching back to the front of the class. "Mr. Nott, can you inform us?"

Harry put his head on the desk as he listened to Nott quietly speak. No one bothered him until the second half of class, where they were supposed to practice completely non-verbal dueling.

"Mate, what was that with Snape?" Draco asked as they separated from the rest of the class and stood in their own corner.

"I don't know. He was being a prick," Harry shrugged, flipping his wand around in his hand.

"You also didn't even bother taking out parchment," Draco snorted, shaking his head disbelievingly. "And we had reading on inferi last week."

 _And I was almost drowned to death by an army of them two years ago and saved by Dumbledore's ring of light after having to poison him in order to retrieve a part of Voldemort's soul. Oh, but the horcrux wasn't there, Regulus Black removed it, and we both almost died in a cave of hell for nothing._

"I told you I didn't want to get up this morning," Harry said. A movement caught his eye and he turned to see Ernie and Justin Finch-Fletchley approaching.

All the air left Harry's chest when he saw the blonde boy. His stomach turned violently and he was worried he was going to vomit again. Ernie caught his eye and smiled toothily at him.

Swiftly, Snape stepped in front of the boy, causing the smile to fall swiftly and Draco stepped in front of Harry, blocking his view.

"Macmillan," Snape said, his voice crawling with danger, "Attempt to duel me non-verbally."

Harry was staring at Draco, however, trying to read the blonde's face. He knew something. The blonde looked angry and concerned, looking over his shoulder at Ernie. Harry takes a step back, drawing Draco's attention back to him. His grey eyes widen.

"Ready to duel."

"You know, don't you?" Draco glances around, but all their peers are either watching Ernie be destroyed by Snape or are working on their own duels.

"Listen, I stopped by Sev's to check on you and I saw your face. He didn't tell me anything. I was going to talk to you about it today, I promise."

Harry's cheeks burned, and he opened his mouth but nothing came out. _Now he knows you're disgusting too. Freak, freak, freak. He pities you. He thinks you're pathetic._ Harry remembers that morning, waking up in the blonde's safe arms and suddenly feels so ashamed.

Harry turns to his desk and picks up his bag.

"Harry, what are you doing," Draco hisses at him. Harry ignores him and leaves, opening the door and sliding out of it quietly.

He climbs to RoRi and packs a bottle of vodka and some weed in his bag and then trots to the Bell towers. They're almost as tall as the Astronomy towers, but rarely frequented, especially when it begins to get chilly since they require going outside briefly. Plus, the tower is open to the air, not closed off like the floors below the top of the Astronomy Tower.

There are four bells charmed to go off at the appropriate times up there. It's loud, but Harry doesn't really care. He just sits on the landing below and sips the bottle, listening as the bells tell him Defense is over. He lights a joint when they ring at the beginning of Potions class.

He skims the Prince's Potion's book, charms rubbish from the corners to dance, and chain smokes. He transfigures an old piece of rope into a quilt. He draws the bells. He sketches the clouds. He draws Ernie Macmillan's smile in perfect detail.

He cuts himself six times; four times on his arms, twice on his thigh. By the time curfew rolls around, he is very, very drunk and very, very stoned. He got blood on Snape's sweater. He can't really think about anything for longer than a minute and he decides that he likes it this way. Like how much he wishes he could be more for a blonde boy. And that he wants a home now that he doesn't have to hide within. He thinks about how many gay wizards there are. He wonders about how cold it is out on this tower and how he wishes Draco was here to wrap him up. He thinks about how he can't face Draco again.

He falls asleep thinking that the moon is lovely and lonely.


	22. Chapter 22

_Hello! Still angst! Still alone! Still stupid Harry! Also, remember that they're sixteen, and don't know what to do sometimes. No matter what kind of life either Harry or Draco have lived, they are still young and hurting. ALSO, please, so I can wrap up my next chapter, tell me what kind of new piercing should Harry get? Preferably on his face or ears. Remember, he already has a septum and small guages (plugs). Tell me! Also please tell me how you feel about this chapter. There is a lot going on between everyone at this point. Thank you!_

9:00 AM. Harry wakes to the clanging of the bells. He promptly rolls over and vomits up his dinner of vodka. He was chilly, despite the quilt he transfigured, and felt like a layer of filth rested on him. Which it almost surely did.

He looked around blearily, making sense of the fact that he slept on a stone floor _again,_ but this time it was pretty much outside. He heaved himself onto his feet and reversed the quilt back into rope.

 _It's Tuesday. No morning class. Transfiguration later. Draco is in that one. So is Ernie._ Harry felt sick again, but he knew he couldn't skive off McGonagall's class. He placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, leaning into a window and peering out across the Lake. Almost all the leaves were gone from the trees. Winter hit Hogwarts hard and fast, and it looked like it was about to arrive.

 _I have DADA, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms with Ernie._ Those are basic classes; classes a student can't keep skipping and expect to get a job afterwards. Harry flicked his cigarette out the window and watched it fall to the ground.

Harry goes back to RoRi and sits in his shower for an hour. He cuts his arm. He traces the strange tear in his lip with his fingertip. He puts his glamour on.

He throws his Transfiguration textbook in his bag and finds a package of carrot sticks and an apple in there, like he usually would. Harry cries on his sofa. He eats the apple slowly and sips on a glass of water.

His chest ached.

 _It's better this way, it's better this way._

Harry gnawed on the carrots and went to class.

He got there early and put his head on the desk. He ignored when Draco pulled the chair out next to him.

He took notes, but didn't absorb anything, too focused on ignoring Draco's looks his way. McGonagall collected their essays that Harry had gratefully completed last week. They were dismissed and Harry shot out of his desk quickly, head bent. Draco called after him, but Harry was through the doors and down the steps, making his way to the courtyards quickly.

There are too many students, either on afternoon break or done for the day, so he leaves, heading for the Forest. He sits in the edge, tucked behind a sparse row of trees, staring up at the castle he calls home. He chain smokes until it begins to get dark and the Forest becomes alive, pushing him back inside.

When he enters RoRi, Pansy and Blaise are there, sitting around Draco. Harry nods at them, but hops on his bed and pulls the curtains closed.

He pulls a pillow over his face and waits for sleep.

Ssssss

11:30 AM. Double Charms had just ended, mercifully. Harry sat in his tree by the lake, Snape's jumper the only thing protecting him from the cold wind. He had Care of Magical Creatures, but he knew that Hagrid would let him just go hang out with the thestrals, especially since they're more docile in winter months.

There are four pregnant mother thestrals and they seem quite enamored with Harry each week that he comes out and takes care of them. It's easy since he can see them, first of all, and he gives them lots of treats and rubs under their leathery wings just how they like it.

Harry swings his legs, contemplating falling from this distance. He climbed higher than normal. He would break something, probably, and maybe hit something on another branch on the way down.

He lights a joint instead, and checks his bag. There it is; a tomato sandwich and some cubes of cheese. _Give up already, Snape._

Harry tears the sandwich into pieces and throws it hard in the direction of the Lake. They reach the rocky shore, and he watches as the Giant Squid reaches a long tentacle out and nabs a hunk of bread. He exhales with his chuckle.

Harry does eat the cheese.

He smokes a cigarette and rolls up his sweater sleeves. He puts it out on the crook of his elbow. He doesn't bother taking his glamour off to look at it. He flicks the cigarette butt away.

Harry reaches into his bag and pulls out his constant companion; the handle of vodka. He takes a few sips, relishing in its warmth.

He wishes it were summertime. He wishes that he could go party with Nick and Mav. Even at Privet Drive, despite how horrible they are, Harry understood what was expected. He knew he was a ghost there, and he knew how to play the game.

He hated being a ghost here. But that's what he was. That's how it had to be now.

Harry heard doors opening and saw his class come out of the entrance doors. He swung off the branch and clambered down the tree a bit unsteadily. He trailed behind the group of peers to where Hagrid stood.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other as they gathered around, but was immediately glad when Hagrid announced that they were to work on their independent projects today.

He took off towards the pens before Hagrid could try to chummy up with him. He knew Hagrid had to supervise Zachariah Smith, who had chosen hippogriffs, so he couldn't follow him regardless.

So Harry spent an hour hanging out with thestrals, feeding them raw meat and scratching them. He sketched them in his notebook as part of his project, as well, but mostly sat and smoked. He knew Hagrid had put up monitors to make sure students stayed in the right location for the allotted amount of time, so he stayed watched the horse-creatures create beds for themselves.

Then he went and half-heartedly completed his Transfiguration homework in the Bell Tower. He slept there, again, after more vodka, unwilling to talk to anyone else, especially Draco.

Ssssss

Remus was back, which, despite the idiocy of the man's comment; Severus had to agree was a good thing since he was essentially losing his mind. It was Wednesday night. Harry had run out of his quarters Sunday night.

The boy had become a ghost since then. They had an unpleasant encounter in Defense on Monday, after which the boy had slipped out of the classroom while Severus was busy hexing Macmillan. Potter skipped Potions. Potter and Draco were apparently at odds. Draco had come to him after Potions, very concerned and very angry and very overwhelmed.

Severus had attempted to smooth it over, told Draco that Harry just needed time to sort himself out. Draco was impatient, however, and apparently, so was Severus.

Which is why it was good that the idiotic mongrel of a lover had returned, if only to draw baths for the irate Potions Master on the warpath. And to do that thing where he curls Severus' hair around his fingers. And when the bleeding idiot holds him to his chest all night. And maybe the benefit of sex, but that's all.

Severus growled. Remus looked up from the essays he was grading.

"He'll come back," Remus reassured, reaching a hand out to place on Severus' arm.

"Or he'll drink himself to death," Severus snapped.

"You have that charm on him. Has it tightened?" Severus discreetly placed the charm he used for Harry during swimming during Defense on Monday; the one that gave Severus a band that tightened and changed to red if Harry was in trouble.

"It has tightened, but only barely."

"Has it even turned color?" Remus lifted an eyebrow at him.

"For being an overbearing, destructive wolf just a few days ago, you could be a little more considerate," Severus snapped harshly. Remus raised his hand from Severus' arm and returned to his essays.

"I apologize," Severus mumbled.

"Sorry, dear, what was that?" Remus asked, not looking up. Severus could see the slightest hint of a smirk though.

"You heard me, canine! You have extra-sensitive hearing," Severus huffed. Remus stood, and Severus wondered for a moment if he was going to leave, but the man just kissed the corner of his lips and disappeared into the kitchen.

He came back out with chocolate biscuits and placed them in front of Severus with a flourish.

"What? Why?" Severus asked, plucking the packaging up with just his thumb and pointer finger, as if they might bite.

"You haven't been eating and you are _especially_ grumpy. Eat chocolate."

"You know," Severus said, as he pulled a biscuit out, "If anyone else said that to me, they would probably be poisoned within the week."

"I do," Remus replied, bending down and kissing Severus' cheek. "And that is why I get to spend my life with you and others do not." He stole a biscuit.

They worked together for a while longer in relative silence, eating biscuits peacefully until Severus put his red quill down.

"Draco came to see me again today."

"Did he now?" Remus asked, glancing up for a moment.

"His father sent him another letter, trying to bargain his way back into his life. And Harry hasn't spoken to him since Monday."

"Did you tell him what happened between the two of you?" Severus sighed. He had told Remus begrudgingly, knowing that it would be easy to blame him and that Remus could easily yell and rant at him for buggering it all up. The man, instead, was very surprised with Harry and seemed to think Severus hadn't done anything wrong.

"No, it would be hard to explain without identifying the topic of the non-conversation. It is not something Harry wants others to know, obviously. His reaction to Draco simply seeing his face from Macmillan and drawing his own conclusions was bad enough."

"What are you going to do about the creep?" Remus asked, venom trickling into the normally warm voice.

"Destroy him, of course." Severus smirked at Remus.

"Wait, Sev, what are you planning?" Remus, as a typical Gryffindor, was all about open play. When Severus got like this; sneaky and cunning and deceitful, he got nervous. However, Severus knew that Remus would back him up on this, particularly because it involves protecting a student, especially because that student is Harry.

"I am simply going to ruin his academic career. Didn't you know he's a cheat?" Severus lifted an eyebrow at Remus' bewildered expression.

"What? No?"

"Ugh, love, he's not. He's disgusting scum on the floor of the world and he deserves to be known as that. However, our Harry doesn't want to be brought into it, so I am going to _miraculously_ have his next essay in Transfiguration have some light plagiarism. The same will happen in Charms. It will be slow and subtle, but Minerva and Filius will notice and he will be dismissed from those classes.

"I have a three explosions policy in my NEWTs classes, so he will just happen to have three explosions. He had one on Monday already. Two more and he is out. For your class, I need Draco to volunteer to duel him one day and push him. Macmillan knows that Draco likes Harry, therefore would love to fight him but can't since they're both in the silly gay club. They escalate, Ernie casts something harsh, Draco plays it up, and he's out of Defense. That is four major classes needed for most jobs and also the four classes he shares with Harry. Unfortunately, it will take a few more classes, but by the end of the month _at most,_ Macmillan will have no academic standing."

Remus was looking at Severus as if he was a fascinating new species. Severus smirked.

"Have I told you I love you?"

"I believe so, yes," Severus smiled lightly as Remus approached.

"Have I told you I'm glad you're on my side?" Remus slid his arms around Severus' neck and kissed him heartily.

Severus didn't get a chance to answer.

Ssssss

8:46 AM. Harry wakes on the cold floor. He casts a _tempus_ and panics. He has potions in fourteen minutes and he has to go dressed in what he wore yesterday and probably reeking of booze. Luckily, since he has taken to avoiding RoRi and Draco, all his textbooks are in his bag.

Harry swings it on and trots down the many stairs and flies across the courtyard, sliding on the icy dew. He's shivering in the cold, rubbing his hands together as he trots down the dungeon stairs and skidding into the Potions room.

He checks the clock on the wall, 8:58. He sighs and falls into his seat, avoiding eye contact with Draco.

Snape blazes into the room, robes billowing as usual. He glares at all of them, his gaze lingering on the blonde Hufflepuff sitting a few rows ahead of Harry. He flicks his wand and instructions for the day appear on the chalkboard in the man's spidery script.

Harry's head is pounding, and the words on the board look blurrier than usual. He pulls out his textbook and flips it open to the right page for a "Nocturnal Vision" potion. It's a weird, complicated potion, filled with bat veins, firefly juice, and perfectly ground porcupine quills.

He waits for everyone else to pick their ingredients before he gets his. He follows the Prince's instructions and ignores when Draco tries to talk to him.

"Harry, where did you sleep?"

"I'm worried about you, mate."

"Come on, Harry, just say something. I don't get why you're mad at me."

Finally, Hermione turned around and shushed him, causing Malfoy to exclaim, "Oi, I'm trying to be a friend here," loudly enough for the whole class to turn around and glare.

"As admirable as that may be, Mr. Malfoy, this is not the time to attempt it," sneered Snape from the Ravenclaw corner. "Please do us all a favor and shut your mouth. And Ms. Granger, hushing at that volume quite defeats the purpose."

 _Shite. Snape's in a mood if he's mean to Draco._

The class quickly got back underway, everyone deadly silent as they understood the kind of temper the professor was in.

Near the end of class, Harry was finishing up by sprinkling powdered moonstone evenly across the surface of the potion and watching as it seeped in and turned it into a violent yellow-green. He bottled it and brought it to Snape's desk, planning to drop it and run. Snape, however, watched him walk up and went to meet him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, can you please stay-"

BOOM! A cauldron in the third row exploded, casting a stream of silvery gunk straight up into the ceiling. The students watched in horror as it burned through the stone.

"Right, right," Snape said lazily, waving his wand and causing it to disappear, "Macmillan, that's the second explosion in a week. Having a hard time, are we?"

Harry ducked to the side, wanting to get out of the eye line of both Ernie and Snape. He placed his potion bottle on the desk and quickly returned to his cauldron and packed up.

He left before Snape had finished yelling at Ernie. Again.

Sssssss

November 9th. 8:08 PM. "Albus."

"Severus," the seasoned wizard said with a smile, "It's so nice to see you in here again."

Severus shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He used to feel relaxed in here. He used to immediately take a seat in the plum colored chair that perched on a left angle to Albus' desk. He would sprawl out, begin speaking, knowing that he was being listened to.

Today he stood, hair in face, shoulders tight.

"Harry Potter needs a Mind Healer."

Severus watched out of the corner of his eye as Albus' face crumples. The man steeples his wrinkled hands together and bows his head into them.

"That is…complicated, my boy."

Severus grits his teeth at the term of endearment.

"He needs help that I, we, can not provide. He needs a professional. Other Slytherins have gone before."

"They were not Harry Potter," Albus stated, blue eyes watery.

"Yes, they were not the Chosen One. But does he not deserve the same care as every other student that walks these corridors?" Severus bites the words out, knowing they were stabbing the older man.

"Of course he does, Severus," Albus returns, his words slow and serious. "But if the press catches hold of it, or the Mind Healer breaks their Vow and divulges what Harry says, things could spiral wildly out of control. Harry knows secrets that could not be released into the world without creating a fair amount of chaos."

Severus slams his palm on Albus' desk.

"Then use your bloody power and make sure that doesn't happen. Find a good Mind Healer. Be discreet. It is not impossible. My Mind Healer knows much and would not dare tell my secrets. He deserves the ability to heal like everyone else. Just because he is the hero, he is not invincible. In fact, if you have not noticed, he is having an extraordinarily hard time," Severus sneered. "So, figure it out and get back to me."

Severus turned on his heel, prepared to stalk out the door without another word.

"Severus, sit. Let us discuss it more. Please," Albus said, his voice soft and pleading. _Oh how far we've come from me pleading on a hilltop. Years of friendship, of mentorship, dissolved during the second war in a struggle of pain and power, and now this; his offering of weakness._

Severus turned back to him, but did not sit, not willing to give the man the position of equality when for so long he held it from him.

"I will do as you ask, but you do know the requirements for a student to see a Mind Healer."

Severus smirked, knowing he had won the first battle.

"I do. A signed consent form from his guardians, permission from his Head of House, and agreement from the student themselves."

"Correct. The Dursley's will not respond well, I'm sure, to this response. Send them an owl or two first. If that does not work, you have my permission to visit them and discuss it with them. However, Severus," Albus paused, peering at the dark-cloaked man intently. Severus glared back.

"Yes?"

"You are not to harm them in any way. You and Petunia may have history, but you are there on account of Harry's well-being, not his revenge."

"What if his well-being also depends on his revenge?" Severus sneered half-heartedly, having already known he could not touch them; not for Albus' sake, but for Harry's.

Albus merely shot him a look, expressing that the old man himself understood what Severus meant.

"Now, please chat with Minerva, and send the letter. I have noticed that Harry has not been stopping by recently. Do you wish to repair whatever has happened before you inform him of the actions put in place?"

Severus stood silently for a moment, half of him seething over the older man's all-knowing foolery, the other half considering what would be best for Harry.

"I shall wait until we have another positive interaction before I divulge," Severus confesses, revealing as much as he is willing about the tenseness between himself and the boy.

Albus nods and Severus feels this is the time to see himself out. As he reaches the door, Albus calls out, "I really do want what is best for you and Harry."

Severus stands still for a moment, feeling those blue eyes on his back, and nods, pushing through the door.

Sssssssss

November 14th. 5:22PM. Harry had perfected being a ghost in the past two weeks. Draco still noticed, but they had a conversation that resulted in Harry getting the space he wanted. It wasn't exactly a nice one, but it worked.

Draco had cornered him in RoRi after Transfiguration one day, despite Harry knowing that he had a Muggle Studies class.

"Harry, can we talk?"

Harry had shrugged, continuing to stuff necessary items in his bag. His bag had become his home, practically, and he had taken to carrying around everything he might need for the day or the next day in it. Typically there was a slew of textbooks, parchment, and ink, as well as his journal. Then there was the Map and the Cloak, which he had started using more frequently. He had a change of clothes, or at least an extra jumper. He always had cigarettes, weed, and alcohol, of course, since he smoked and drank through the day. He had his toothbrush and deodorant, as he had started using Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in the mornings that he spent away from RoRi. She usually just complained to him while he had toothpaste in his mouth, and then he ran to class, promising to talk to her about it later.

"You've got to start sleeping here, mate."

Harry had sighed, but not turned around.

"Seriously. Madame Pomfrey says I've given myself stomach ulcers."

"Well that's your problem then, isn't it?" Harry said, sling his bag over his shoulder. Draco looked affronted. Harry hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh, but he, well, he hadn't eaten much besides what Snape spelled into his bag for days and he was feeling a little off kilter.

"Listen, Malfoy, I just want to be left alone. Ya know, reserve some modicum of privacy that I have left."

"Where'd you learn a word like 'modicum'?"

"Snape," Harry said begrudgingly, peering into his wardrobe and finding a hat that Mrs. Weasley had knit for him. It was bright yellow, for some reason, but he has stuffed it on his head. The Bell Towers were cold.

"Listen, I know you are mad at me, but I didn't mean to see. I just came to check on you and you were passed out on the sofa. But stop sleeping wherever the hell you are and sleep in your ruddy bed, already," Draco said, his voice starting soft and caring but rising steeply.

"Stop trying to follow me, then," Harry said, his own voice rising.

"Stop disappearing! You're bloody wasted all the time. It's a tad worrisome when your best mate is drunk and lost in a castle that has moving stairs!" Draco had gotten in Harry's face.

"I'm not bloody lost, Malfoy, I know my way around perfectly," Harry had sneered. "But fine. As long as you stop doing whatever you're doing to Ernie."

That had stopped Draco cold. He had probably assumed that Harry was too fucked up to notice all the ways that Ernie Macmillan's life was speeding downhill.

"Yeah, mate, really discreet the way you got him kicked out of Defense. And whatever rumour you started to get Justin, his best mate, to start hating him. Even bloody Hannah Abott won't talk to him. What did you say to them?"

Draco had reeled back, his face becoming an alarming shade of pink. Harry shook his head.

"He sent a _cutting hex_ at me, Potter. In a classroom! He made me bleed badly during a friendly duel!"

"Only after you went up, whispered something in his ear, and dueled him. C'mon, what rumour did you spread?" Harry had tilted his chin up at Draco, something that made him remember summers at Privet Drive, when he would do the same thing to Vernon and get a quick slap in the face.

"I didn't spread a rumour. His little Hufflepuff friends are mad because he got thrown out of Charms and Transfiguration too. He got caught cheating. That's not very Hufflepuffian, is it?"

"There's more, Draco, but fine, don't tell me. I'll stay here at nights like a good little boy so your stomach ulcer goes away. Tell Snape I'm following orders. I'll be back before curfew," and with that, Harry had spun out of the room and retreated to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, leaving a stunned and hurt Draco Malfoy in his wake.

So now it felt like Harry was grounded. He made sure to be back in RoRi each night, but rarely bothered a spare glance at Draco.

He hoped that it would work on him the way it didn't seem to work on Snape, who still sent him food and potions every day. Draco would stare at him, a kind of sadness and longing in his grey eyes, but wouldn't initiate conversation anymore, which was fine with Harry.

Except if felt like he was slipping away into thin air. Sometimes he thought that if he didn't cut himself, there would be no way to know for sure that he was still alive, and not like Binns; a ghost who didn't even realize it.

Here he was, in his bed, curtains spelled closed, smoking his third joint after Potions class, which was, as usual, a disaster. He had been steadily avoiding Snape, but the man was obviously unhappy with him.

To be fair, Harry wouldn't be pleased if a student consistently came to class stoned out of their minds. He still made decent potions, even though he went at the speed of a snail. Plus he kept falling asleep in lectures. He still turned in homework, though instead of the Exceeds Expectations and occasional Outstandings he got from studying with Draco, he was getting a lot more Poors and Acceptables, in all his classes.

Writing essays in the Forbidden Forest was just not as comfortable as a desk. Also, Harry was pretty much drinking any time he wasn't in class. It made things a little more interesting. His charms work, for one, was more…flamboyant. His Transfiguration work was disastrous.

He came to class at the last possible minute and was the first one out the door. Harry hadn't had a conversation with anyone in over a week, besides the fight with Draco. Three days ago he had walked deeper into the Forbidden Forest, until the sky was barely visible from the closeness of the trees, and screamed as loud and long as he could.

Birds had erupted from tree branches and flown away, leaving Harry feeling even lonelier.

In his bed, though, it was easy. He kept all his stuff on it these days, just like his bag. Even now, he had requested a shelf to be hung above his pillow from RoRi, and it was filled with alcohol, cigarettes, weed, some scraps of sketches he did in class, and the Map. Above that was a bullseye, which he was currently sending simple black ink spots at from his wand.

He was sipping firewhiskey now, since he had run out of gin and vodka, and alternating cigarettes and joints.

Harry knew he had to start homework soon, but wasn't exactly looking forward to it. All he had due for tomorrow, Friday, was an essay for Herbology discussing Snarfalump and their dangerous tentacles. Not exactly too tricky.

And really, all he wanted to do was sleep. It seemed all he wanted to do was sleep these days anyway. He couldn't help but nod off in the middle of class while taking notes, or in the courtyard while smoking between classes. Even in the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by the sounds of dangerous animals and rustling trees, Harry's head would droop and he would lose an hour or two.

He cast another black dot at the bullseye, missing by an inch. The door swung open and Harry heard voices trail in. A lot of them.

 _Fuck. It's Thursday. Bloody stupid Gay Brigade._ Harry kneeled on his bed and started packing his bag full of his necessities, rather unsteadily.

 _What'd I eat today? Er, grapes and carrots. Strawberries? Or was that yesterday? Half a scone, I think._

"Let's get started, guys," Draco's voice rang out, and Harry felt very trapped all of a sudden. _If they're starting, everyone must be there, including bloody Lupin and bloody Snape. And I'm kind of hammered._

He closed his bag and slipped open his curtains, creeping out. Then his foot got caught in his sheet and he spilled forward onto the floor with a sickening crunch.

"Ah, fuck it," Harry mumbled, scrambling to his feet and holding his bleeding nose.

"Hullo, Harry! Your anipondus are very angry!" Luna waved at him frantically. Harry, one hand filling with blood, waved back with the other awkwardly as everyone stared. Ginny glared at him. Draco looked concerned.

Snape scraped back his chair and stood, "Continue, group," he directed. "I'll fix Potter's nose and return shortly."

The thin man quickly reached where Harry stood, slumped over and bleeding on one of Malfoy's expensive Persian rugs, and reached out before apparently thinking the better of it and making a 'keep moving' motion with his hand.

Harry wanted to cry. He wanted Snape to put his hand on his shoulder. He wanted to tell his professor that he wouldn't push him again, that it was an accident.

Instead, he walked out of RoRi obediently, eyes to the floor.

" _Finite,"_ Snape said immediately.

"Oi, what the fuck?" Harry shouted as his glamour fell.

 _"Episkey,"_ Snape said, wand at Harry's nose. Harry felt it go back into place, and he scrunched it up afterwards. "Language, Mr. Potter," the Potions Master said lowly. He cast an appraising look over Harry. Harry shrank in on himself. He knew he had lost weight. A lot, apparently by the curled lip on Snape's face. And despite staying in RoRi, he hadn't taken a shower in about four days, maybe five? He just tried to stay invisible, even in his room. He wasn't positive, but he thinks he was wearing the same outfit as yesterday, and probably the same jeans as the past few days. His jumper was Snape's, and with the glamour off, Snape could see the blood that had congealed on the upper sleeve of the gray sweater, as well as the spilled alcohol down the front from last night.

Snape sighed heavily and cast a cleaning charm on the jumper. Harry shrugged, but hid his blush. He usually just rolled out of bed, full glamour on. He couldn't be bothered to keep track of what was going on under it.

"Child," Snape started, causing Harry to look up. Snape looked at him seriously and Harry gulped. "You are to go to my quarters and shower. There is a hamper in the corner of the bathroom; place these _clothes_ in there, and they shall be clean by the time you get out of the shower." Dark eyes flicked to RoRi's door, "This meeting will probably take at least an hour so you have plenty of time to escape before I return. However," he said slowly, making eye contact with Harry, "You are more than welcome to remain and have dinner. The sofa is always open to you as well. Now, go."

The man turned crisply on his heel before Harry could put up an argument and was back through the door, closing it in Harry's face neatly.

Harry felt angry with the black-clad man that had so carelessly told him what to do, but at the same time he relished the opportunity to be somewhere safe and warm and alone. He scowled at the door, but turned to the back staircase and so he followed the once well-worn path down to Snape's.

There was a sense of relief when he passed through the wards uncontested. It felt strange how attached he had become to this place; with it's dark but cozy furniture, the windows that look into the Lake, the fire that lights as soon as anyone steps into the room, the overwhelming smell of books and herbs, and that nagging sense of ownership Harry feels.

He drops the bag on the sofa and heads into the bathroom, shedding his clothes and throwing them in the wicker hamper Snape had mentioned. Harry twists the shower on, blasting the hot water. He steps under, grabbing a flannel and soap and scrubbing off the grime and blood that he had acquired over the past few days.

Harry had to admit that it did feel good, especially shampooing down his hair that had become wild and tangled, especially since it was getting longer again.

His arms and thighs stung, the open scars tingling beneath the steaming water and soap. Harry scrubbed them down as well; noticing that one on his thigh seemed a little grody. It hurt a little more than the others, but Harry was sure it would be fine.

Then he just leaned against the dull grey tiles and let the water hit his chest, closing his eyes against the spray.

He let himself doze for awhile before pulling himself together and stepping out, wrapping himself in a deep blue towel. He checked the hamper and saw that his clothes were neatly folded and smelling fresh. Harry shrugged them on, enjoying the feeling of clean pants, jeans, shirt, jumper, and socks. He put his glamour back on, feeling comfortable as it settled onto him.

Harry cast a _tempus_ and saw only thirty minutes had passed. He slinked back into the main room, casting a longing glance at the sofa.

 _Maybe I can just take a thirty-minute nap. He won't be back for at least forty minutes. It'll be fine._

Harry tentatively took his place on the sofa. Five minutes later, after remembering just the right way to stuff his face into the back cushion, Harry was fast asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

_Hey guys! Here's a long one for you! Might be able to have a shorter one for you this weekend too, but we shall see. Let me know your thoughts and feelings! Also tell me what you want in the future! I try to incorporate what I can, so let me know. Thank you, thank you for the reviews. Things get a little better in this one. Also Snape Meets Dursleys! Review with any cool ideas you have, or any feedback please! You guys are the best.  
_

Friday. 5:50 AM. Harry grumbled as he heard footsteps roaming around. _Why the fuck is Draco up this early?_

He cracked an eye, but didn't see his grey hangings as usual. Instead, blurry light brown greeted him and he groaned.

 _Thirty minute nap. What a load of bollocks._ Harry shut his eyes again, tight against the world. _I slept for almost 12 hours. What's the matter with me?_ The thick blanket of sadness that had been covering Harry for weeks felt suddenly heavier. It felt like there was something really tangibly wrong with him. Like he was sick or something.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to even out his breathing. The footsteps sounded like they were in the kitchen. Harry heard the coffeepot start. _Definitely kitchen._

One time Harry had asked why Snape makes his own coffee in the morning when the elves could do it for him. Snape had told him that he valued his routine, and that making coffee had been part of his routine since he was a child and made coffee for his mother in the mornings. Snape said he liked the smell of freshly ground coffee and the sound it made. It makes him wake up in its own way, before caffeine even enters his system.

Snape rarely spoke reverently about anything, preferring his harsh and direct way, or avoiding it entirely. He spoke reverently about coffee, though. _Coffee and Potions._

Harry heard nothing but the gurgling of the pot for a few minutes, and then the sound of liquid being poured into containers. And then footsteps into the living room. Something hit the surface of the table, two taps, and then the footsteps retreated until Harry couldn't hear anything anymore.

Harry rolled over only to spot a large glass of water, a nutrition potion, and his mug full of fresh coffee. Beside the beverages was a bowl of fruit-topped oatmeal.

 _He knew I was awake. He went for a swim._ Harry sat up fully and gulped down the water, followed by the potion. He felt anxious however, when he started taking bites of oatmeal. His stomach had definitely re-shrunk, and there was nothing to distract from the ache he started to feel after the sixth bite.

So instead, he propped his feet up and sipped coffee languidly, enjoying the peace and the smell and the simple comfort this space held. With his mug in hand, oatmeal pushed aside, he felt calm like he hadn't in weeks.

He sipped coffee for almost an hour, then grabbed his bag and decided to head out to the Forbidden Forest and work on his Herbology essay. So he slipped out of the tapestry and up the dungeon stairs, avoiding the early birds on their way to breakfast. When he opened the doors to the grounds, he was momentarily shocked by the cold burst of wind. _Can anyone swim in this?_

It was a wintry mix of rain and sleet outside, and Harry solemnly closed the door again and was shuffling to the Bell Tower when a voice called out for him.

"Harry, m'boy, can I speak to you for a moment?"

Harry's stomach dropped. _Why does he want to talk to me?_ He turned, facing the old wizard, today dressed in neon green robes with purple swirls.

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore smiled at him, that kind smile he had that was reserved for handing "delicate Harry." Like after the Triwizard Tournament or when he mentioned, _"_ hey, by the way, you're a bloody fucking horcrux and you have to sacrifice yourself for the good of the world."

"Thank you, Harry. Now, let's find a nice classroom to chat in," the man strode forward, combing the first floor hallway for a place that was not locked by Hogwarts herself or going to be used soon for class.

"Ah, this looks lovely," Dumbledore waved Harry inside a dim room full of stacked desks and molding textbooks. Harry flipped open the cover to find the date _1864_ was the year they were printed. Harry sneezed.

Dumbledore waved his wand and two chairs settled in the room, shaking themselves off of dust. They were definitely students' chairs, and when Dumbledore took a seat, his tall self seemed very awkward folded into the low chair.

Harry also sat, avoiding direct eye contact, but knowing he was being X-rayed just the same.

"I have a feeling you wish to, ah, cut to the chase, if you will," Dumbledore said merrily. Harry nodded. "Well, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape have decided to procure a Mind Healer for you."

Dumbledore paused, letting the words seep into Harry's head. _A Mind Healer. Of fucking course. They think I'm bloody mad, don't they? They aren't that wrong._ Harry snorted.

"It is simply because they are concerned for you. Many others in the war also received care, but the Minister and, unfortunately, myself, thought that due to the highly classified information that you know and the fact that you are a highly publicized member of society, seeing a Mind Healer could result in any number of unfortunate outcomes."

Harry could hear the sadness in the old man's voice, but didn't respond to it. _He didn't want me telling all the little secrets of the war. He didn't want the papers splashed with "Dumbledore's Boy is Mad."_

"However, Severus has changed my mind. I have found a highly qualified Mind Healer that has taken on many extra Vows to ensure complete and total silence."

 _As in: you're gonna die if you tell._

"And this morning, Professor Snape is going to visit your relatives to get them to sign the consent forms-"

"What?" Harry shot up from his seat. Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes, Minerva really wanted to go, but he insisted he be the only one. He informed us early this morning; rather he sprung it on us. He should be heading to the gates about now," Dumbledore was watching Harry pace closely, blue eyes following the small teen.

Then Harry froze, a look of absolute panic on his face, then bolted out the door. He sprinted down the hallway, ignoring the looks people gave him as he pushed past them.

Finally, he got to the doors and rushed into the wintry mix, feeling the rain bite into his skin harshly as he slipped down the hill, falling off the path more than once and landing on the wet grass. His face slid across the path once, grazing his cheek. He stood and continued pounding through, desperate to reach Snape before he could leave.

 _If he meets them, he'll kill them. He will really, truly know what I'm like. He will see everything. He'll see Dudley's second bedroom._ Harry's heart seized in fear. _What if he sees the cupboard? What if he sees blood stains on my never-changed sheets? What if he sees the bars on the window and the locks on the door? Have they even gotten me another door? What are they going to say to him?_

 _Shit. What if he kills them?_

Harry can barely see through the pouring rain, but the looming gates approach, the strong feel of the wards warning him of how close he is. He slides to the ground two yards from where the gate door is closing; where a man in all black stands outside of, apparating away.

Harry stays on the ground for a while, fear lacing his heart as the rain pours around him.

Ssssssss

10:00AM. Severus knocked gently, _respectfully,_ despite the wind and rain around him. He was wearing a light grey button up, dark grey tweed blazer, and black slacks, hair tied back in this wind, but still wore dragon-hide boots. It was Muggle enough, and it wasn't as if the neighbours were peering out their windows in this weather.

He had left the castle around 7:45, after telling Albus and Minerva of his plans and assuring them he would not harm the Dursleys. He found it rather droll. He had spent the past hours in Diagon, picking up supplies and perusing the book shop after a nice breakfast. Diagon Alley on a rainy day, when the shoppers are hurried and subdued, is one of his secret pleasures, so he took his time, reigning in his legendary temper before this.

Petunia answered, narrowing her eyes furtively, and began to close the door. Severus stuck out his, thankfully, _dragon-hide_ boots before it slammed.

"Petunia, I would not have come if it was not important. It is about your nephew. I am a professor at the _school."_ She narrowed her eyes further, but the door opened and Severus stepped into an immaculate, crisp, sanitary home.

 _How drab. Lily and her mother understood the benefit of comfort over sanitation, regardless of lack of magic._ Severus suddenly thought of Spinner's end; of cockroaches, flies buzzing over empty beer bottles, peeling wallpaper, and mold giving him chest aches for years.

"Thank you, Petunia," Severus said, coldly but politely, waiting to get what he wanted.

"Why would they send you for anything about the boy?" Severus' eyes flitted to Petunia's thin lips, not unlike his own, in all honesty, but her horsey face and high, holier-than-thou tone did not sit well with him. It never had.

"Harry and I are close. He considers me his mentor," Severus let the words roll off his tongue as Petunia led him into the dining nook. Severus mind darts to a half circle of a burn he spotted on Potter, faded and old, barely there. He gritted his jaw.

"Does he know you were a little thief?" Petunia spares no niceties to him.

"What did I steal?" Severus drawls, allowing the game to continue.

"My sister, of course. She was mine before you got your slimy, greedy hands on her and dragged her off to that school. And then look what happened; she got herself blown up and I got landed with her weirdo son," Petunia says it casually, as if it hadn't destroyed Severus' life, as she walks around the counter and puts the kettle on.

"Is your husband here?" Severus speaks tightly now, his throat constricted. Petunia looks up and smirks haughtily. She knows she won that round.

"He is. I'll call for him when the tea is ready. So, did you end up with another red head? Or alone?" She's taunting now, pretending to busy herself with biscuits and fruit. _Harry. This is for Harry._

"A blonde, in fact." He says it menacingly, tilting his hair to stare at Petunia's blonde locks. "But he's graying, already. I'm sure you heard about the war, seeing as your _nephew_ won it. Anyway, my partner is a werewolf and it is quite taxing on the body. Plus, he's very protective over young Harry and it has been stressful the past few months. Which is why I am here to talk to you."

Severus' eyes gleam as Petunia pinks at the mention of a male partner and then pales dramatically at the barely veiled threat of a werewolf.

The kettle goes off, and Petunia startles. Severus coughs, hiding his smirk. The kettle seemed to have sparked a large animal to begin a descent down the stairs, bellowing, "Petunia, is it tea time already?"

Severus watched as Petunia's eyes darkened, showing him just what he both feared to see and wanted to see; dissatisfaction, sadness, and anger. It gave him grim satisfaction that Petunia had emerged unhappy in life, but it concerned him that Harry lived here under her ire.

The large animal entered the room and Severus clenched his fists. The man was essentially a baby elephant, and the image of Harry, _child,_ cowering under the weight of this man made Severus want to snap the fatty neck.

"Hello, sir," he said instead, standing, extending a hand. Squinty eyes widened as far as possible as they took in Severus. They darted nervously to Petunia, who nodded subtly.

"No, no, no! Get out! We don't want any more freaks in here! It's bloody November. This shite only happens in the summertime when that ruddy boy is here. We don't want your kind in here." The large man's chins wobbled dangerously, making Severus clench his jaw tightly.

"Vernon, he just needs us to sign something for the boy and then he'll go. Besides, at least he's wearing _normal_ clothes and even arrived the _normal_ way. Though, that's hardly surprising given his upbringing."

Severus looked at Petunia with surprise. She had no reason to give him any support; he was in her house, facing down her husband, at complete disadvantage, at least while trying to be civil.

"You know this one?" Vernon asked, eyeing the plate of biscuits eagerly. It had barely gone past 10 AM.

"He was _her_ friend as kids. The one from the wrong side of the river. His father worked at the mill when he wasn't drinking," Petunia said, finally sitting down with the rest of them, her nose still in the air.

"Indeed," Severus said, his mind supplying the images of his father's drunken form, sprawled out every morning, drool hanging from his lips. Severus used to wish he would choke on his vomit while passed out. "Now, I have some forms for you to sign to allow Harry to see a Mind Healer, a kind of therapist, if you will, while he is in school."

Vernon snorted loudly, crumbs erupting from mustache. "The boy? Why would he need to see anyone? He's fine, and we're not paying for it."

Severus gripped his teacup and took a sip, letting the steaming heat bring him back from murderous tendencies.

"Well, as you might have heard, _my kind_ had a war, revolving primarily around Harry, in fact. During the final battle, and the months leading up to it, Harry faced many traumas. Since then, especially this year, he has been struggling," Severus said, watching the Dursleys closely. "He has been isolated by some of his peers, has faced badgering from the press, and has started partying more than studying."

Vernon snorted again, sending another spray of crumbs. Severus watched as Petunia delicately plucked one off her hand.

"The boy spent the whole summer sneaking out of that blasted window and going off to parties; getting himself tattooed and a faggy haircut. We were informed about the war," Vernon glares at Petunia, who glares right back. Severus takes it that they do not like being informed about Harry's life.

Severus eyes Vernon, understanding now that he is the one who says "faggot" in the family. They both, Severus is sure, say all sorts of vitriol that Harry has gotten stuck in his head, but this particular word comes from the morbidly obese member.

"Yes, and this will not cost you any money, since-"

"The only good thing about that freak school is that you pay for all the boy's supplies since he's an orphan," Vernon leans back, another biscuit in hand.

Severus takes this in, wondering what other lies Harry has spun.

"Yes, indeed. So, if you could just go down the sheet and initial, Petunia, and then sign at the bottom, you won't be bothered about this again." He handed over the parchment into her bony hands. "And if you could direct me to the loo, I'd be most appreciative."

Petunia didn't look up from the parchment, which she was inspecting with pursed lips, "Upstairs, end of the hall."

Severus pushed back and squeezed past Vernon, who was trying to peer at the parchment at greedy eyes. He found his way back to the staircase and went up, peering at the rows up family photos on the way up, all exhibiting Petunia, Vernon, and a smaller Walrus that grew into a larger one through the years.

Not one of a small, dark haired boy with a lightning bolt engraved on his forehead existed.

Four doors existed upstairs, and Severus paused at the top and listened down, hearing the Dursleys speak urgently to one another in low tones.

He pushed open the first door, and seeing a large room with a king sized bed and a dozen pink and light blue pillows adorning it. He sneered lightly, and closed the door silently. The next door had another large bed, but was surrounded by electronics, toys, candy wrappers, and posters of half clad women. _Definitely not._

The next door, however, was Harry's. He knew before he stepped inside. There were two large locks on the _outside_ of the door. Brand new, it seemed, and the door seemed new too. He whispered an _alohomora_ on each and stepped inside.

It was small. He took two steps and reached the twin-sized mattress on the floor. It smelled rank; like sweat, rust, marijuana, and stale cigarettes. The walls were bare. There was a dresser, and a small desk.

There were bars on the windows. There was blood on the sheets, small splatters and thin stripes. The sheets were yellowed, too, as if they hadn't been washed in some time. There was no pillow.

Severus left, locking the door as he found it.

He went through the Fibonacci Sequence up to 4,181 as he went into the bathroom, closed the door softly, flushed, turned on the faucet, scrubbed his hands harshly, and went back downstairs to the monsters.

He settled into the seat, clasping his shaking hands together. Petunia pushed the parchment back at him. "I signed everything. If that's all, Snape?"

Severus took a deep breath, planning. He decided on the long course of action. "That's all, Petunia. Thank you both for your time today. I will not be bothering you over this matter again." He tucked the parchment into his blazer and stood, passing the elephant sized man again.

He stuck out his hand again, but Vernon merely eyed it warily. Severus lifted an eyebrow at Petunia.

"We've had some difficulties with your kind. They gave our Dudders a tail, destroyed our fireplace, made Dudley's tongue grow into something awful," she seemed teary eyed at the very thought.

 _Yet your nephew is withering away at your hands and you hold him prisoner._ Severus nodded, as if he could possibly empathize with her.

"There are certainly difficulties merging the two cultures. Regardless, I appreciate your help, so that in turn I can help your nephew."

Petunia led him to the door and Severus was about to leave when she asked him something startling.

"Does the boy have to come back this summer?" Severus peered at her, black eyes examining hers. They seemed tense, worried.

"Why?"

"Isn't he safe now? Can't he go stay with friends?"

"I will see what I can do," Severus said shortly. "Good day, Petunia." With that, Severus stepped back into the rain, hurrying the few blocks to the playground, where he apparated back to Hogwarts, feeling desperately cold and worn down.

SSssssss

November 16. 1:38 PM. Harry sipped his butterbeer that he had slipped firewhiskey into. He was in a back booth of the Three Broomsticks, allowing himself to be seen by the professors. Today it was Flitwick, Hooch, Sprout, and Sinistra. That simply means that they were huddled up, gossiping and giggling.

Harry doodled in his journal, drawing the scene of the bar from the back booth. He had managed to avoid seeing any one from the GB, or rather, had avoided being seen by anyone. Ginny and Pansy had been in the window of Hogsmeade, sipping hot chocolate, casting eyes at each other. Luna had been on the side, with Hermione, chatting animatedly while Hermione was trying to speak over her, pointing at a book. They only stopped when the shopkeeper handed them a tray of hot chocolates.

Dean, Neville, Hannah, and Justin were sitting outside, clearly waiting for the girls to leave and deliver drinks. Neville and Hannah had their hands intertwined, but were speaking happily with their friends.

Harry had crept by, invisibility cloak on. He pulled it off around the corner from the Three Broomsticks and had slid in, passing by the professors casually and taking a seat where they could see him.

He took another sip, the heat from the firewhiskey and the butterbeer making him feel both comforted and queasy at the same time. It didn't help that he was still feeling petrified about the thought of Snape meeting the Dursley's.

He had seen the man in the corridor yesterday, coming back from an awful Herbology class where he couldn't concentrate enough while tending to a variety of angry mushrooms in Greenhouse 6. Snape had seen him, looking as if he was going to approach him, even in the crowded first floor corridor, but Harry had spun around and ducked between the two brutish Slytherin Beaters, one of which gave him a push that made him stumble, clearly not a close friend of Draco's. He then scurried onto a moving flight of stairs and was gone, transported to the third floor.

Harry swirled his mug around, pushing his journal aside. The drawing was shit, anyway; too dark for the cheerful bar. Everything was off these days. He locked his journal and stuffed it in his bag, pulling out his Defense text and a quill instead.

He skimmed over his homework, writing notes in the margins, but his mind kept wandering to the Dursley's home. _Did Petunia sit him down for tea? Did she remember him? Did Vernon call me freak? Did he see the skillet so often aimed at my head? Was Vernon wearing his belt? Was Dudley home for the weekend, or does he have Friday classes? Were they civil? Did they call_ him _a freak? Oh, Merlin, did Snape hex them? Did he see Dudley's second bedroom; my room? Did he see my room? Did he see my room?_

Harry found that his chest was tightening up and his hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe and he hated this, he hated having all his secrets exposed, he hated it, hated it, hated it.

He swallowed the remains of his drink and stood, shoving his text in his bag and swinging it over his shoulder. Sprout raised an eyebrow as he passed their table, but she didn't say or do anything.

He was finally out in the streets, where the chill in the air soothed his over-heated body. He slowed, breathing shallowly, but at a better pace than before. It had stopped raining sometime in the night, but the ground was still slick with icy patches in the shadowy alleys. Harry stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wishing for gloves. He had on the beanie from Mrs. Weasley, and the jumper from last year's Christmas, but it had been worn so frequently it was becoming a bit worn.

Harry lit a cigarette, not seeing any students on this side of Hogsmeade, and continued down the winding street, past small homes, garden stores closed for the season, a tiny greengrocer's, a cobbler's shop from 1767, and a few other small, local places not designed for the students.

Finally Harry reached the used clothing shop he and Draco had been in before. It was warm inside, and the girl behind the counter seemed perfectly happy to ignore Harry, which Harry was perfectly happy with as well.

He found a section of jumpers, and picked out the thickest ones of the bunch that weren't in lurid colors. He settled with a forest green and dark brown. They were a little big, but Harry needed something warm besides the three wearable jumpers he currently had; two of which actually belonged to Snape.

When he went up to pay, the young witch looked up at him, surprising him with the rows of rings pierced through her ears.

"Four sickles," she drawled, snapping bubblegum.

"Er, here you go," Harry said, pushing over the silver coins. "Um, is there a piercing place around here?"

She raised a pierced eyebrow, her own violet eyes darting to his gauges and septum piercing.

"Sure is, hon. Down the street, past Hog's Head and Parades' Barber. It looks like shite on the outside but it's nicer than the one in Banchory by far. Tell 'em Sinsi sent ya." She snapped her gum again, looking back at her book.

"Thank you so much," Harry said, a smile trickling onto his face for the first time in days. He walked out of the store, and headed straight down the street, past the Hog's head, past the barbershop, and in front of a small, faded blue building that looked as if it was barely standing.

There were still marks on the side from stinging spells and cutting hexes. Someone had written "JS was here," on the side in ink. There were cigarette butts littering the side of the building. A white sign simply stated, "Tattoos. Piercings."

Harry pushed open the door.

It was better inside. Clean. It smelled like wood polish. There was a sofa by the door where a woman was sitting, her feet propped up. A man was leaning behind a desk, flipping through a magazine. There were two little stations in the back. Harry could see the tattoo gun beside the little table bed things at each station.

"Oi, Jaz, wake up," the wizard said, nodding to Harry carelessly.

"Wha?" Jaz looked up, wiping her mouth. "Oh, hullo dear. What can we do for ya?"

"Er, I was looking to get a piercing?"

"Righto, righto," Jaz said, standing and stretching. She had short, spiky hair, making Harry think painfully of Tonks. "So, er, are you 17?" She peered at him, then froze, her eyes widening.

Harry groaned. He had forgotten who he was.

"Joe, this is bloody Harry Potter," Jaz laughed. Joe glanced up and gave a chuckle.

"Guess it is. You 17 yet, Potter?"

"Well, um…"

"Oi, give him a break. He's already got shite in his face," Jaz said, grinning. She turned to Harry. "You don't tell it was us, alright?"

"Jaz, he's gonna go back to classes with a new piercing! Where the fuck else would it come from?" Joe, who had a curly short beard and curly long hair, waved his hand in Jaz's face. Harry took a step back, but Jaz merely laughed.

"So? What? We'll get a citation for giving a piercing to Harry Potter? Who fucking cares! I'll get mah da to pay it," Jaz laughed again, a tinkling sound that contrasted her deep voice.

"Yer a bloody menace," Joe said, but leaned back behind the desk and flipped open his magazine again.

"Now, Harry, what'll be?"

"Er, I was an eyebrow piercing? And getting my ear plugs up a size, if you have something for that. I got it done at a muggle shop."

"Sure thing, hon. Have a seat over there." Harry did as directed. Jaz disappeared to the back for a few minutes, and then reappeared, carrying a tray.

"'ere we are. These are all the gauges we have in size 14. You have 16s, yes?"

Harry tried to remember back to that blissful morning in London, fucked up on mimosas and cocaine. "Er, I think so. It was some time ago. But yeah, really small."

"Okay, so pick a pair and I'll put 'em in. It shouldn't be too hard because they've been in there for so long."

Harry examined the rows of small plugs, bars, and fang looking things in the tray. "Er, those, I think." They were tiny gold tunnels, but with a thick outer rim.

"Good choice, man," Jaz said, picking them up and then promptly dropping them. Harry gulped.

Sssssss

10:39 PM. Harry was sitting at the bar at Hog's Head, swirling around his gin and Fizz. He had lost count of how many he has had since he entered around 5PM, after smoking a few cigarettes after his piercings. He had put on his disguise and entered. The same bartender with the matted blonde hair was behind the bar, polishing glasses with a dirty rag. Harry had bought a bottle, put it away in his bag, and started ordering glasses.

Harry took another gulp, finishing off his glass. He pushed it forward. Blonde guy refilled it, making his way down the bar line.

Harry was pretty sure he was sitting next to someone not quite human, due to the elongated teeth, gashes across the face, and rather dismal appearance, but he really couldn't care at this point. He was just happy he had stuffed his bright yellow hat in his bag before he got here. He already stood out as being slightly clean. And young.

Harry took a sip and then rested his head on the counter. He was tired again. He was always so tired. His ears tingled from the new piercing in a pleasant way. He had kind of hoped that it would hurt, but doing it magically was much easier apparently. They eyebrow was a little worse, but not much. He liked how it looked, too. He got it on the side opposite his bloody scar. Hopefully it would draw attention away from it.

He had asked about tattoos and Jaz had said that those still hurt a whole bloody lot, but he would have to have a signature from a guardian for that, since it was a whole lot more permanent.

 _I don't have any real bloody guardians._ Harry raised his head for a sip. Maybe if Draco doesn't hate me I can get his mom to sign for me. Mrs. Weasley won't, for sure. Harry tried to picture Petunia's face if he owled her, asking permission to get a tattoo. He snorted. _No way in hell._

"Oi, young'un, clear out. Some unsavories are about to come in that aren't exactly human and are probably looking for something fresher than these," the barkeep motioned towards the other patrons. "The Three Broomsticks is rowdy at this time of night too and more suitable for you."

Harry picked himself up, pushed two galleons across the bar, and swayed out of the bar, confused over what was going on, but clear on the message.

He twisted around in the dark street, unsure of where to go. He didn't much feel like the cheer of the Three Broomsticks. _Sleep._ Harry dragged himself up the alleys, slipping occasionally. He lit a cigarette. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. He meandered a long ways off course, to sleepy homes and quiet businesses.

Harry longed to enter one of the homes he saw, the dim light of a fire visible from the outer windows. At times he could catch the shadows of a couple or a family getting ready for bed. He was very aware that he was not allowed in.

It took him a long time of wandering to notice the cold. By the time he did, he had wandered his way to the base of the hill leading to the Shrieking Shack. It stood as a dark shadow against the dark night; not exactly warm and inviting, but Harry didn't feel like walking the long tunnel back to the castle. Up the hill he went; slipping and falling into the soft earth at one point and picking himself back up with unsteady limbs.

He trudged into the Shack, the blasted side open to the elements. Harry blearily looked around, feeling the wind whip around the room. There was a sofa, torn in half, both sides flipped on the side.

The bed was gone, looted. There were pieces of furniture littered around; legs of chairs, planks of wood from shelves, a full drawer from a dresser.

Harry sighed, glancing at the dilapidated staircase. There was no way he was going up those in the dark.

Instead, he shakily used his wand to rearrange the two halves of the sofa, creating a barrier from the rainy wind on with one side, and took all the cushions off to create a soft pad to sleep on with the other. It smelled moldy and dusty, and was slightly damp, but Harry collapsed onto it gratefully. Within moments, he was asleep.

Ssssss

11:28 AM. Harry rolled over, off the pile of cushions he had put together for himself last night. "Fuck," he moaned, sitting up on the creaking wooden floors. His head throbbed from the many glasses of gin from last night. His dreams came back to him in fragments; raw hands but a clean kitchen, aching bones but a tidy garden, folded knees and tight, dark spaces.

He was shaking, the cold having seeped into his bones overnight. Sunlight filtered in through the hole in the wall, hurting Harry's eyes. He felt nauseous, his stomach tight and pounding in time with his head.

Harry got to his feet, swaying dangerously for a moment. He needed water and maybe food. He needed warmth, desperately.

He shrugged on his bag and put the invisibility cloak over his head. When he exited the Shack, the sun was high in the sky, showing it was close to noon. _How'd I sleep that long?_ He trudged down the hill, mud clogging his boots that he hadn't bothered to take off when he fell asleep. His body was stiff, but moving around seemed to help as well as warm him up.

Harry knew he could have gone back to Hogwarts through the tunnel and gotten the elves to give him water, tea, and oatmeal, but Harry really didn't want to go back to the castle.

Instead, he made his way to the Three Broomsticks, shedding the cloak before he stepped inside. There were Hogwarts students loitering around, which momentarily surprised Harry. He always forgot that they were allowed on Sundays, since he was usually sleeping off a massive hangover after buying large quantities of alcohol on Saturdays.

A third year Ravenclaw, a girl that Harry didn't know, gave Harry a weird look, pointing him out to her table of friends.

Harry turned away from them, heading past the professor's table, full of Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, Vector, and Burbage were sharing a steaming kettle of tea. Snape's eyes shot up, widening when they saw him. He stood abruptly, but quietly, stepping over to Harry who stepped back at the sudden motion.

"Follow me," Snape whispered harshly, "And hide your face."

Harry ducked his head, confused and scared. Snape took the stairs up to the second landing of the pub. Snape took a moment to check the room, and then turned back to Harry.

"Your glamour is off. Did anyone see you?" Harry's hands flew to his face, not that it would matter. Snape waved his wand and conjured a mirror.

"Oh, fuck," Harry said, looking at his reflection for the first time in weeks. The bags under his eyes could win awards. His skin was stretched over his face tightly. His eyes were a dull green, bloodshot and glassy. His lip still wasn't healed; in fact, it looked like it was going to leave a mark, probably because he never treated it with the things Snape sent him. His hair had gotten way too long. His jumper was covered in dust and dirt, and his jeans weren't much better off.

Harry sighed and rummaged in his bag, pulling out one of his new jumpers he had gotten yesterday. He shrugged off the dirty one, his tee shirt rising up to his ribs.

He heard a sigh, having completely forgotten that Snape was with him. The man was turned halfway away from him. Harry shrugged, the damage done. He looked at his sharp shoulders and collarbones in the mirror, poking out from under his sleeveless tee. He was grotesque. Harry turned his body a bit and peered at the back of his shoulder, looking at the F,R, A, and K that shone in a pinkish white.

He remembered why he was mad at Snape. He scowled in the mirror and shrugged the new jumper on, the green one. He cast his glamour and put his bag back over his shoulder, making his way for the stairs.

"Harry," Snape started, "Can we speak for a moment?"

"No."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Why not? Do I get an answer this time, or will you simply curse at me again?"

Harry looked down, feeling chastised but still angry. "No. I'm mad at you."

"Because?"

"You went there. You went there and didn't tell me and you weren't supposed to go there. No one is supposed to go there, especially when I'm not there. You went and talked to them. You weren't supposed to see," Harry whispered the last part, turning back to the stairs and darting down them.

He glared when the Ravenclaw girl looked at him, and sat himself at the bar. Madame Rosmerta approached, busy smile on her face.

"What can I get for you?"

"Just a water, tea, and some fruit and toast or something," Harry mumbled, flattening his hair over his forehead.

"Of course," she said, already halfway to the kitchens. Harry put his elbows on the bar sunk his eyes into the heel of his palms.

"Cheer up, laddie, you have a handsome friend," Madame Rosmerta had come back with his drinks and a plate of thick toast smothered in butter, jam, and topped with blueberries. Harry's stomach rumbled. "Aye, eat up."

But first, Harry turned to where she had nodded, meeting the stormy eyes of one Draco Malfoy. He nodded at him, and the boy took a seat, smiling gratefully as Madame Rosmerta got him a cuppa as well.

"Harry," Draco started, twirling his cup around nervously. Harry took a bite of the toast, his aching stomach happily receiving food for the first time instead of aching him as usual. "I don't like doing this, having to be so weak, but you're driving me absolutely barmy."

Harry took a sip of tea, anger starting in his stomach, only overpowered by guilt and sadness. _Here it comes; he's gonna tell me he doesn't want me to hang around any more. He's sick of having me be a liability. We can't be partners in class. We can't sit by each other. He wants me to move out. He's going to move back to Slytherin. Something like that._

"I miss you," Draco said, his voice low, wavering. Harry's head shot up.

"What?"

"What?" Draco looked confused now. "I miss you, Harry. I want you to hang out with me. I want you to talk to me. I _miss_ you. I'm going mad when you lock yourself up behind your curtains. You haven't said a word to me in _days._ Even when you hated me, you would at least fight with me. This is absolutely awful. So please, can we just go back to the room and like, be normal?"

Harry was silent, his mind reeling. He was exhausted, painfully hungover, already confused about Snape, had woken from dreams about Privet Drive, his body hurt from where he slept, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about Draco.

Harry took another bite of toast, trying to ignore the eyes on him. He sighed, took a sip of water, and turned to Draco.

"I miss you, too." Harry blushed deeply.

Draco grinned. "Alright, finish your food. Then, let's go home."

Ssssssssss

Harry was still exhausted. But right now, stretched on the sofa, his head on Draco Malfoy's lap, having his hair played with, he felt a little better.

They hadn't said much to each other, just taken a carriage back together, after Harry smoked a cigarette around the back of the Three Broomsticks. Draco had left him at the bar for a moment to speak to Snape, which annoyed Harry a bit.

It also made him jealous. _Godfather, Godson; they are family._

But then, despite their silence, Draco had kept sneaking looks at him and smiling, all the way up to their room. And then Harry, after looking at his bed, had instead crashed on the sofa. And Draco had lifted his head gently and sat beneath it, then began carding his fingers through Harry's hair.

They didn't speak, just stayed on the sofa for a long time until Harry fell asleep, still so unbearably exhausted.

Sssssss

He woke up in his bed with Draco wrapped tightly around him sometime around midnight, having slept far too long once again. That heaviness lingered around him, on his limbs and in his head, making him constantly tired, telling him something was wrong. Regardless, he saved that worry for another time, and he rolled over, tucking his nose into Draco's neck, and willed himself back to sleep, surrounded by the safety of the other boy.


	24. Chapter 24

_Hello! This one's slow and kind of resettling Harry back. Let me know what you want to see in the next chapter. Would you rather skip to his first Mind Healer's meeting and have Harry talk to the Healer about him talking to Draco, or would you rather have him and Draco's conversation, and wait for the meeting for later? Let me know, let me know! Thank you guys so much reviews, they help me so much._

7:48AM. "Mate, wake up," Harry said, his hand swirling the back of Draco's head. "We have class."

"Mm, don't mess up my hair," Draco mumbled, halfheartedly pushing Harry's hand away.

"Then wake up," Harry grinned, pushing the back of Draco's hair straight up.

"No! You're such a prat," Draco moaned, lifting his head and opening his eyes. Harry smirked, and pushed himself out of bed. Draco groaned loudly and rolled out himself, straightening his silk shirt. He shot a glare at Harry, and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower twist on.

Harry settled onto the sofa and emptied his bag, the new bottle of gin rolling onto the table. Harry barely stopped it from falling; glad his reflexes were okay after sleeping for over twelve hours. He looked at the bottle, glanced at the bathroom door, and looked at the bottle again.

Harry opened it and took a large gulp. He tucked it back in his bag and then quickly rolled a joint and lit it, inhaling deeply and willing the smoke to cover the smell of alcohol.

He relaxed, leaning his head back on the cushion and peering up at the golden dragon skeleton mobile, trying to blow smoke rings. Despite his seemingly constant bouts of sleep, he felt more rested from last night than he had in ages.

And he was still tired.

Harry groaned and rolled off the sofa, wanting to get changed before Draco comes out of the bathroom. He threw off his clothes and exchanged them for more black jeans, another band tee, Snape's black jumper and his heavy Docs.

Draco sauntered out of the bathroom, towel looped around his waist, hair spikey from water. Harry averted his eyes, headed back to the sofa, and lit a cigarette. A nutrition potion appeared on the table and Harry popped it open and gulped it down. He tapped the table, happy to see a bowl of blackberries appear beside his coffee.

He popped them in his mouth at a steady pace, ignoring the motion out of the corner of his eye. Harry banished his cigarette and rolled another joint, stuffing his bag of weed into his bag when he finished.

"Oi, going to class stoned again?" Draco asked, sitting beside him and tapping the table with his wand, his eggs appearing. His delicate hands cut into them, spilling the yolk onto his toast. It repulsed Harry a bit, and he lit the joint.

"Yup. DADA is pretty boring most days," Harry said, shrugging.

"Well, not everyone defeated a Dark Lord," Draco snickered, bumping shoulders with Harry. It made Harry smirk, just a little. "And it's better than Transfiguration and Charms."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the blonde, "I happen to enjoy charms, as a matter of fact."

"Only because Flitwick likes you and lets your experimental charms get passed," Draco huffed. "Nice eyebrow ring, by the way. Very rebellious. Has Snape seen?"

Harry huffed and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. Draco crinkled his face with a disgusted sneer. It was true that Flitwick, in their classes on charm development theory, allowed Harry more leeway with his silly, drunken, one syllable spells. On the other hand, Draco had complicated spells that he created, some that were honestly bordering on hexes rather than charms, that Flitwick would frown at and refuse to tell whether they were correct or not.

"Snape saw me, but I don't know if he noticed," Harry passed the joint to Draco who had pushed his eggs away, and the blonde took it.

"He will definitely see it and I look forward to it," Draco chuckled, but reached out one hand and gently touched the piercing, Harry's eyes fluttering closed as it happened. He could feel the soft graze of fingers trail down, and suddenly his cheek is being cupped and held.

Then slowly, the fingers trailed down, to his chin, then were gone. Harry opened his eyes again, only to find the blonde shoving his books in his bag.

"Class, man. Gotta go," Draco passed the joint back and Harry sucked it in heartily, standing slowly. With one hand he stuffed his books, Potions kit, and weed in his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

"Alright, I'm ready."

"Smoking weed in the corridors, what a role model you are to the children," Draco tsked, smirking, leading the way out the door and heading down the back stairs.

"Ya know; save the world, smoke weed, go to class," Harry raised his eyebrows tauntingly at Draco, who rolled his eyebrows so slowly Harry thought they might get stuck.

"Well put it out already, Savior Boy. We're almost there."

Harry laughed and inhaled the last bits before banishing it. He took a gulp of coffee as they entered the room, sputtering as he saw Snape and Lupin at the front.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, sliding into his seat. "It's the bloody dream team."

"Oi, that's my Godfather. And that's your…werewolf?" Harry rolled his eyes this time.

"Yeah, but they're both _concerned adults_ who should back the fuck off," Harry said, a bit of venom dripping into his words.

"New fight with Sev?"

"Something like that," Harry slumped his shoulders as Draco organized his side of the desk. "Ya know, I don't really get his thing."

"What thing? Also take out some parchment before you get points off," Draco scolded.

"Like, why does he give a shit if I am a social outcast? It's not his problem. He did his bloody job. I'm alive, Voldy is dead, and Hogwarts is still standing. He should keep his beak out of my business now," Harry pulled out his text, some parchment, and a quill.

"You're such an idiot, Potter, I swear to Slytherin," Draco said, writing his name, the date, and the subject at the top of his parchment. "It's bec-"

At that moment, the bell rang and Lupin and Snape turned to the class.

"Good morning everyone!" Lupin started brightly. "As you can see, Professor Snape will be joining us today for a practical demonstration later on. In the meantime, we will be having a lecture and discussion about the Unforgiveables, as well as some other Dark spells. Now, I know you've been taught about them before, but this will be about how to protect yourself against them, how to predict them, and how to heal."

Everyone looked a bit wary, no doubt because many had seen or heard or even experienced some.

"You will not be casting it," Lupin said, a bit forcefully. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but Draco snorted. A few cast harsh glances towards him and Harry nudged him.

"What? You think Saint Werewolf is going to let 16 year olds cast Unforgiveables? Why do you think a Death Eater is here?" Draco looked angry as he tilted his head up at Snape, who was standing, stone-faced, against the wall.

"First off, let's collect your homework. Professor, can you help?" Snape snapped into action, going through Harry's half of the room and snatching essays off desks.

"Shite, he's not happy," Harry whispered. Draco merely snorted again and placed his probably perfect essay on the corner of the desk. Snape loomed over them, collecting Draco's and peering at Harry.

"And where might your essay be, Mr. Potter?"

"Don't have it," Harry said, sticking out his jaw in mock confidence. The room quieted.

"And why not?" Snape was not looking angry, as his tone suggested to the class, but instead merely looked disappointed, which stung Harry.

"Busy." Harry looked down at his desk, unwilling to see the way Snape's jaw would tighten and eyes would harden.

"Detention. With me, tonight, 6 o'clock."

Harry shrugged, only looking back up when he felt the presence of the black-cloaked man move away. He felt exhausted again, as if he could put his head on his desk and go back to sleep for another ten hours.

"Okay, class, who can tell me about the Cruciatus?"

Harry felt the room go very still. Everyone knew the basic answer, but they knew he wasn't looking for the basic answer.

"Why don't you ask Potter," Ron said, his voice higher than usual as if he was attempting not to laugh.

Harry felt Draco tense beside him. _Oh fuck._

"It's not a fucking joke, Weasley," Draco spat, face twisted in disgust.

"At least it wasn't my dad casting it," Ron replied with a sneer of his own, Seamus giggling behind him.

"Lucius Malfoy didn't cast the Cruciatus on me," Harry said loudly, making the class go completely quiet. "It was Voldemort, three times, I think. And Bellatrix Lestrange once. And so you know, it feels like white-hot knives are piercing every centimeter of skin and you can't ever get away and you think your head is going to burst open from pain and you are completely, totally, at the other person's mercy. So shut the fuck up, Ron."

With that, Harry slumped back in his sleep, propping his head up with one hand and started doodling. He was surprised when another voice rang out.

"He's right. I've been cursed more often than that. Probably between ten and fifteen times, and the worst part is not knowing when or if it will end. Even when it does, your limbs are so exhausted and limp that it's hard to move. I was given the potion every time afterwards so I healed quickly, but while it's happening, it's like your bones are on fire."

Theodore Nott spoke softly from his corner of the classroom, his eyes hard but his tone soft and almost nonchalant. _Ten or fifteen times? Four was bad to me._ Nott nodded his head at Snape and returned to flipping through his textbook lazily.

The classroom was quiet, some students openly staring at Nott. Lupin clapped, making some jump.

"Right then," he said, eyeing Snape. He seemed a bit on edge, no doubt due to the uncomfortable conversation he had provoked.

"The Cruciatus, cast as _Crucio,_ is one of the three Unforgivables. The Dark Lord was particularly fond of it and his followers used it often under his guidance. In fact, he managed to derive a tangible way to use the Curse on his followers as a way to call them to him or to express his…displeasure," Snape drawled out the facts rather dryly, as if he hadn't been subjected along with the rest. And then, to the awe of the entire class, he unbuttoned his sleeve, and then his second sleeve, and then rolled it up, exposing the Dark Mark.

"Most of you have seen it, either on me or on others during the trial, if not during the Battle or on family members themselves. The Curse afflicted the Mark, but, depending on the Dark Lord's mood, it could radiate further, extending the pain to nerves surrounding as well. So, due to my years as a spy, as well as during the Dark Lord's defeat, my nerves are damaged beyond repair. I cannot feel much on this forearm, nothing at all on the Mark, and I suffer from tremors in the arm as well."

Snape glared them all down, daring them to snicker in light of his pain, but they stared at him as if he was a god.

"Now, this is not the same as all former Death Eaters; some were treated better than I, some were treated worse, but the fact remains that Binns is not teaching you this in class and he probably never will. The reason that the Dark Lord was able to become and remain powerful as long as he did, was not only because he was a talented wizard, but due to creativity."

"He's bloody complimenting him," Ron whispered loudly enough for people surrounding him to hear, "That's completely sick."

Draco pushed back his chair, cheeks pink. "Oi, say it louder, Weasel."

"Mr. Malfoy, sit down," Snape ordered calmly, his face devoid of emotions. "I heard what Weasley said." Ron paled swiftly, making Harry smirk. "However, he is right that I am complimenting him. That is because you must know your enemy's strength before you can defeat them. As a chess player, I would expect him to know that strategy," Snape raised an eyebrow and turned away, leaving many to chuckle into their hands at the small jab.

"Now," Lupin stepped forward again, letting Snape retreat to behind Lupin's desk, where he sat, observing the class coolly. "What Professor Snape said is correct. Voldemort was intelligent, creative, and hungry for power. He did not obey rules or have any moral compass towards most human life, freeing him to use the Unforgivables loosely. Now, the thing is, many who fought against him also used them. Aurors were allowed to in the First War, and there were many spells used in the Battle last year, as well as events leading up to it."

Harry felt a plunge of guilt. He had used the Cruciatus. It was against that bitch, Bellatrix Lestrange, but he had still used a dark curse against a human being.

"Due to the situation, even those who were not Aurors were not punished for the use, but were given a warning and sent to a Mind Healer."

Harry scowled. He hadn't even received a warning. But now he was getting a Mind Healer, a year later, only after someone noticed he had fallen completely apart. Black eyes lingered on him and Harry met them with his scowl, glancing away after a moment.

"The Cruciatus cannot be blocked with a typical shielding spell, since it breaks through it easily. Rather, it is best to dodge and avoid. If hit, well, try hard to keep focused on your next move, once you are released from the spell. Also, there is a potion that helps with the immediate aftereffects of the spell, such as pain in the nerves and bones, even eyes, that can be relieved with this potion that I believe you are making in Potions class today." The whole class swiveled to look at Snape.

"Only for those talented enough to be in my Potions class," he said dryly, inspecting what appeared to be a fossilized bug on Lupin's desk.

"Now, what is another Unforgivable?"

Hermione's hand shot up from the first row. Draco coughed, hiding his laughter and Harry elbowed him lightly. "Sorry," Draco mouthed, but shrugged all the same.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"The Killing Curse," she said, her voice eager but quiet.

"Correct. It is straight to the point; it kills." Harry watched as some of his classmates, mostly those who didn't know him well. He glared at them, hunching his shoulders and letting his hair fall thick over his forehead.

He felt an arm drape around him and it calmed the storm that raged through his bones whenever this topic came up. He clenched his fists tight, his fingernails piercing his palms and breathed as the sting of pain released some tension.

Lupin started talking about the technicalities of it; how it was developed, who developed it, etc., and a piece of paper slid onto the desk in front of him.

 _"How'd you survive twice?"_ Harry stared at the paper. It asked a simple question that haunted Harry constantly. Draco read it and the arm around him tightened.

"And just like the Cruciatus, the Killing Curse cannot be blocked or shielded. The best chance is to dodge it, unfortunately."

"Unless you're Harry Potter," a voice snickered, probably Seamus.

"Yes," Lupin said cheerfully, "He is the only one to survive the curse. Now, we have one curse left…"

"Imperius," Draco called out. "Controls people. Middle Ages. Dark Lord used it often, especially for members of the Minsitry. You can beat it if you have a strong mind."

Lupin raised his eyebrows but nodded accordingly, "Correct Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin. Now, I take it you and Professor Snape have a decent level of trust?"

Draco nodded and Snape stood, walking to the front of room. Lupin waved to Draco and he stood, Harry immediately missing the warmth of his arm.

"Okay, Mr. Malfoy, do you know the defenses your Professor has in place in his mind?"

Harry glanced around at the class, noticing that they were watching in complete awe, eyes focused completely on the three at the front of the class.

"Er," Draco paused and waited for Snape to nod, "He is an Occlumens. It means he can defend his mind from intruders. It gives him various other benefits as well." Draco shrugged, glancing at his godfather nervously.

"Correct. That will be a whole different class, but he will be doing a demonstration. I will cast the Imperius on Professor Snape, and he will not resist for until Draco tells him to. Then he will put his shields in place and prove to you what the benefits of training your mind can be."

"Sir," Hermione had raised her hand, "We did this when, um, faux Moody was our professor."

"Yes," Lupin said with another smile, making Harry roll his eyes, "And I am sure some of you managed to resist partly. This will be different, though."

He turned back to Snape and Malfoy and bowed to both of them. He raised his wand and cast, " _Imperio,"_ and waited just a moment before he began to speak.

"Okay, Severus, walk forward," Snape walked forward, scowling still, "Walk backwards," he walked backwards, awkwardly with his long legs. "Now place your right hand on Draco Malfoy's head." Snape placed his hand on Malfoy's head robotically.

"Alright, Professor, er, resist now," Draco said, squirming out from under the hand. Snape immediately snapped his hand back, _accio'd_ a chair, and sat, long legs folded and chin held high.

"Severus," Lupin said, wand still held at Snape, "Stand up."

"No," Snape drawled, looking at his fingernails as though he was rather bored. The class snickered.

" _Imperio_ ," Lupin said again, "Now stand up."

"I believe I said no," Snape said, smirking lightly. Draco snorted and leaned against the wall. He caught Harry's eye and turned his lips up in a smile and cocked his head. Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks for some reason.

"Alright, alright, Severus Snape, stay sitting down," Lupin said, a smile on his face.

"The answer is still a firm no," Snape said, uncrossing his legs and standing. "And if you don't mind, can you take this off me now that I've proved that you have no control over my mind?"

The class tittered and Lupin withdrew the spell. Snape faced the class, arms crossed, and asked, "Any more questions for me?"

Hermione's hand shot up, of course.

"Granger," Snape droned.

"Right, well, does being an Occlumens help when being crucioed?" Her voice was small, as if she expected to be yelled at for the question. Which, honestly, wouldn't be surprising.

Instead Snape just stared at her for a moment and then calmly said, "Yes. It helps your mind block the pain. However, you still are receiving the pain so the effects are still present. You can deduce the many advantages to retaining your mind at some level."

With that, he looked to Lupin, nodded, and left, billowing through the classroom deftly.

"Alright, class, next week we are going to learn more about the theory behind mind magicks. So read chapter 22 in your book, and write two feet on what Professor Snape taught you today and what intrigued you the most. I see no problem in letting class out a little early today," Lupin smiled at all of them gently. "And if any of you wish to come and chat with me, I have office hours right after lunch and from 5 to 6:30 today."

Harry pushed back his chair quickly and stuffed his belongings in his bag. Draco sauntered back over, neatly writing down the homework assignment, though Harry was antsy to leave.

Ron approached; hissing at them and giving Harry's chair a kick.

"Fuck off, Weasel," Draco snapped at the red head's back. Ron merely gave him an inappropriate hand gesture and continued on.

"Hurry up, Draco," Harry whined, noticing that they were almost the last ones. Lupin had just noticed and was heading over to them. "Fuck," Harry muttered.

"Hello boys, are you alright after today's class?"

Draco looked up, covering his nervousness with a polite smile as he always did around the werewolf. "Yes sir, no problems here. Except for Weasley being so completely disrespectful, as usual."

Remus frowned thoughtfully, but eyed the blonde as well, "I'm sure we'll find some way to make sure he knows he's wrong," the professor said with just a hint of mischief.

Draco's eyes went wide and he sputtered just a bit, making Harry snort in the background.

"Oh come now, Mr. Malfoy, I used to be part of quite the little pranksters group when I was a student. I'm sure you'll think of something clever, especially with Ginny Weasley on your side," Lupin grinned even wider when Draco's jaw dropped, but turned to Harry, who immediately slumped his shoulders.

"And how are you after class today?"

"Just fine, sir," Harry said, looking at a point just over the man's shoulder. Lupin sighed, but nodded.

"Of course, of course. Well, you two better be off and get into trouble while you have extra free time," Lupin walked them out, closing the door gently behind him and locking it as he went off in the opposite direction.

"Oi, Malfoy," Harry stated, catching the blonde's attention, "Why don't we go get really stoned?"

"Oi, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes, "We have Potions this afternoon!"

"Yeah, I was thinking of skipping…" Harry trailed off, ducking onto a balcony and taking off his bag.

"You can't skive off, Harry. You already have detention with the man. He'll bloody kill you."

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't deny that Draco was speaking the truth. He lit a cigarette and inhaled, then passed it to the blonde. He delved deeper into his bag and pulled out the weed, settled himself on the floor of the balcony and rolled a joint.

"You're still getting high?" Draco asked through a cloud of smoke. Harry released his own cloud and grinned.

"Well, duh."

Sssssss

"That was humiliating," Severus said, curled up in his chair, hair in his face, a book open on his knees.

"Love, you were amazing. They were truly in awe of you," Remus approached his boyfriend slowly, guiltily. "Deinceps will be really amazed."

"I don't bloody care," Severus said, but that was partly a lie. His Mind Healer would be proud, he knew. She had talked to him about this when Remus had asked him for this favor and he had vehemently refused.

It was like the Dark Mark "exercise" in the summer in which he had rolled up his sleeves for all to see. And now thirty 16 year olds just witnessed not only his Dark Mark, but also now knew the depth of his Occlumency powers. He knew, logically, that they were not likely to use it against him and that he was not about to get involved in another war. The only child that was worrisome in that class due to his parents was Theodore Nott. After all, his father was currently missing and the elder Nott had never gotten on with Severus. But the man was definitely not disciplined enough for mind magicks anyway, so it was hardly worrisome.

Remus sighed, and Severus took pity on him and motioned him forward. It really wasn't the man's fault that Severus decided to take part in his class. And it was an informative class.

"I'm sorry, love," Remus said, but Severus merely leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the man's sturdy shoulders. Remus swiftly lifted Severus up, twisted them around, and sat again, this time with Severus curled in his lap.

There really were benefits to dating someone stronger.

Ssssssss

Harry and Draco were a little bit, or maybe a lot a bit, stoned when they entered the Potions classroom a minute before the bell rang. Draco had really tried to resist, and Harry had told him it was fine; go to lunch, just smoke cigarettes, finish your Charms essay. But Draco had watched Harry light joint after joint and had given in.

And now they were giggling, _giggling,_ when Snape set his hard eyes on them.

"Just what is so funny, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his voice low and dangerous. Harry heard Draco gulp, which made him snort. Black eyes flashed towards him.

"Er, sorry, sir, just a joke we heard on the way in," Harry lied badly, making unabashed eye contact with Snape. He knew he was obvious, that he probably reeked of weed and that even if his glamour hid his red eyes, Draco's shone through clearly, but he felt like taunting was the best way to soothe how angry he still was at the man.

Snape just looked at him and said, "Remember, six o'clock, Mr. Potter," and turned away. Harry's stomach dropped.

Draco, however, was looking at the book at the Cruciatus Relief Potion with something akin to dread on his face. Harry flipped open his book and saw many ingredients and many detailed directions, half of which were scribbled out and rewritten by the Half-Blood Prince. _I knew I should have skipped._

"Instructions are on the board. Begin," Snape said coolly, raising his eyebrow at Harry.

Ssssssss

6:00 PM. Harry knocked on the door to the Potions room they had used today. The door swung open and Harry witnessed Snape directing dirty cauldrons into piles by the sinks. _That's not bad. Scrubbing cauldrons is kind of my specialty._

And then Harry saw the other student. A fourth year Gryffindor who often followed Ron's lead and had been on Ginny's bat-bogey hex for a while now.

The boy turned to Harry and scowled at him. Snape noticed and added another three cauldrons.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, if you will follow me, I will show you to your detention," Snape said. "And Mr. Bripps, do realize I have a tracking charm and many alerts set up. I will know when you finish and if you leave early."

Snape spun on his heel and billowed out, letting Harry smirk back at the flabbergasted kid before he followed. His smirk faded when Snape led him to the tapestry. Harry sighed and ducked his head before heading through it, closely followed by Snape.

Immediately, he flung his bag on the ground and flopped on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

" _Finite,"_ Snape muttered, his wand pointed at Harry. He felt his glamour slip away. "Harry, what did you eat today?"

Harry glared at his knees, not willing to speak to him.

"Please, Harry," that softness that Harry had heard so rarely recently was back, and it weakened him. Not enough though.

"Why did you go there? Why didn't you tell me?" Harry snapped at Snape, still refusing to look up at him.

"Because you need help I cannot provide and, as your legal guardians, they had to sign a form. I did not tell you because I thought you would tell me not to go and at the moment, your health needs are more important."

Harry peeked out from the fringe of his hair a little. Snape was sitting in his chair, speaking to the floor, and looking truly sorry and more than a little weary. His tone was even and honest, though. _What does that mean? My health needs are more important?_

"What did you see? What did they say? What is this about a bloody Mind Healer anyway?" Harry asks the questions urgently, but quietly, his fingers tapping on his knee. Snape leaned forward and tapped the table, causing tea to appear.

Harry reached out and curled his fingers around _his_ mug, feeling slightly comforted by its appearance. It was heavy set, definitely not a delicate teacup, but built for rushed coffees and lazy hot chocolates instead.

"Your aunt was rude, but no more than I expected from her. Remember that we have never been amicable. All she did was throw some well-placed barbs about your mother and my upbringing in my face. Your uncle is an ignorant slob," Snape paused there, considering his words.

Harry looked up at him. "What else about him?" He closed his fingers into fists.

"He is very lackadaisical about the words 'freak' and 'faggot.' He is extremely repulsive to me in every single way and I found it a magical feat in itself that the staircase has not caved beneath his feet."

Harry couldn't help it. He snorted. And cracked a smile. And laughed just a little bit at Snape's casually cutting words.

"I take it your boyfriend is very fit, then?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Snape merely shrugged, leaning back in his chair, but he had a rather haughty expression and Harry grimaced. "Ugh, never mind, forget I asked." _Merlin, that must be like finding out your dad's date is sexy. Or that your dad even has sex._ Harry shuddered. And then considered his thoughts. _Dad._ And then pushed them from his head as he always did when they reached that territory.

"Harry, I will not lie to you. I saw the kitchen, the dining area, and the staircase lined with photos conveniently missing you. I saw their bedrooms; I saw your door with locks on it. I saw your room that is hardly better than a walk in closet, with bars on the windows and a mattress on the floor. And everything in that room, in that house, is just part of the reason I am insisting on a Mind Healer."

"Why can't I just talk to you," Harry whispered, looking back down at his hands, the laughter having evaporated from him again.

"Because our relationship is too emotional, Child. We are…familial, if I may," Snape said, his voice tentative and awkward. Harry nodded though, understanding that he was right. "For example, I get upset and disappointed when you come to class inebriated, and I respond differently to you then I would another. Just as you so vehemently pushed me away not so long ago because of your fear of eventual abandonment, we cannot be objective with another. And right now, you do need at least one person who can do that and help you in a broader sense."

Snape took a deep breath and reached for his own mug, giving Harry to take it all in. _He thinks I need someone who doesn't get emotionally involved. Who would've thought Snape would get involved in my life? Who would've thought I would want him to? But if I start seeing a Mind Healer, will he stop? Did I push him away? Is he abandoning me? How did he figure out what I was doing? Am I that bloody obvious? Damn, that's embarrassing._

"Child, take a breath," Snape said, startling Harry out his thoughts. He took a few breaths, his fists loosening a bit. "I would still like to talk to you, Harry. However, you cannot run away next time and steadfastly avoid me, slipping back into your old patterns. It is stressful and worrisome, _but,_ " Snape stressed, as Harry reeled back, his mind telling him that that is the exact reason he should disappear, "It would be so much worse to consider that you never return. Child, I'm not going anywhere. I know you don't believe me, and that is fine for now, but one day you will."

Harry was silent, his breath moving swiftly through his lungs as he considered the man's words. Snape looked determined now, and Harry felt a spark of warmth in his chest at the sight mixed with the words. But still, doubt lingered.

"I'm bad, though," he whispered.

"You're not," Snape said firmly. "Please, Harry, just have dinner with me a few nights a week. It'll be the same as before."

 _Dinner again. Warmth and simplicity and comfort and evenings spent in front of the fire doing homework or reading or chatting comfortably._ Harry's mind went back to his nights in the Bell Tower and the Shrieking Shack; freezing cold and alone and deeply, deeply scared.

"Okay," Harry said, his voice soft.

"Thank you, Child. Now, eat," Snape tapped the table and a bowl of soup appeared with a side of toast.

"I'm on soup again?" Harry groaned.

"You're on soup again," Snape said with a smirk. "Hopefully not for long. Now, eat, Mr. Potter. You are too thin once again and you can't swim until you put on weight."

Harry felt the warm bubble in his chest grow slightly.

"You and Mr. Malfoy seem to be back in good spirits," Snape probed after Harry had taken a few spoonfuls of tomato soup.

Harry shrugged, dipping the toast into the soup and taking a bite off of it. It didn't feel scary to eat in front of Snape like it did when he at in the Great Hall in front of so many others. It still hurts sometimes, like he was sure it would in another few bites, but his stomach didn't twist merely from being in the room.

"He got me to go back to RoRi. We haven't talked much," Harry shrugged again.

"I would like you to know that I am not the only one that was saddened by your withdrawal. Draco struggled greatly. He values your friendship greatly," Snape said, words heavy. Harry was reminded of the fact that Snape was Draco's Godfather and that Draco probably talked to Snape about it. It made him a little angry, actually, knowing that they chatted about it.

It also made him feel good that someone cared enough to worry and reach out to express their troubles. Ron and Hermione had always shrugged him off when he had disappeared or gotten in his moods. Harry felt exhausted again.

"I'm going to try and be better, but I," Harry struggled with the words, but Snape waited patiently, "I just don't, I'm just not used to this kind of thing. I'm used to, um, not having to answer to someone."

Harry quickly busied himself with his soup again, avoiding looking at the man. He did hear him sigh, though.

"I know, Child, I know. How about, for today, you just eat and rest?"

Harry nodded, grateful that Snape could sense that he was worn down already. He knew that tomorrow or the next day, he would be pushed further, and that he would have to talk to a Mind Healer eventually.

But today, he appreciated just being back in this space, full of safety and comfort, despite his troubled mind.


	25. Chapter 25

Wow, hello everyone. I am so so sorry I have taken so long to update. I have actually been in eating disorder treatment for the past few months so my time to work on this has been extremely limited. This is a short chapter, but I hope you like the therapist. I thought he could do with someone a little pushy, but understanding. The rest is just small moments of build up, I apologize. I really hope I can spend more time on this in the future. Thank you guys so much for the reviews and sticking with it.

Tuesday. 5:05. Harry stared at the brunette woman across from him. She had introduced herself as Asta Nicholson, but asked that Harry just called her Asta. She had darker skin, the color of Honeyduke's finest milk chocolate, and vibrant brown eyes with flecks of gold that were curious and open, patiently awaiting a response to a question Harry had forgotten already.

"Er, sorry, what did you ask?" He rubbed his palms on his jeans and looked down.

"I was just wondering how school was going this year for you. I can imagine there have been many changes."

Asta had already asked him how old he was, what year he was in, and a bunch of other boring background shit. He had been told by McGonagall to head to this classroom after her class for his first meeting with her. Harry had expected more time to prepare, or plead his case, or escape if necessary.

"It's, er, fine; different."

She nodded, smiling a bit. "Harry, can I ask what you've eaten today?"

Harry froze, jaw gridlocked tightly. _Fucking Snape._

"Just, um, blackberries and coffee. I'll have dinner with Snape later, though, so don't make it a big deal." His fists tightened and he swore he felt her eyes on his bent head.

"That's fine, I was just wondering what happens when you eat more. We don't have to talk about it right now as long as you are eating and Professor Snape is ensuring your continued meals."

 _What happens when I eat more? What kind of bloody stupid question is that? My stomach fucking rebels and I end up vomiting._

"Yeah, Snape will make sure," Harry scowled, thinking of how strict the man had been about dinners this past week.

"You two seem to have a tight relationship," Asta said, her voice soft but deep. Harry glanced up at her, guarded. She raised her eyebrows in a lightly playful manner.

"So?"

"So, its nice that you have such a strong person to support you here," Asta said simply. "Do you have that at home?"

"This is my home," Harry mumbled, turning away from her and crossing his arms. They were in an unused classroom, warded heavily and cleaned up for this purpose. There was a gentle fire glowing and a painfully blank chalkboard.

"Okay, so you don't consider the place you grew up to be a home?"

"No," Harry stated harshly, standing from his chair and heading to the chalkboard and grabbing a piece of abandoned chalk.

He began drawing, angrily scratching the chalk across the wide expanse of board, letting the noise of it soothe his flushed skin.

Fifteen minutes later he stepped back, tossing the miniscule amount of chalk left back onto the tray. Before him was Number Four Privet Drive in three panels; the first was the house sketched out properly under the hot sun, flowers in perfect arrangement with a lanky boy bending over the beds, clothes hanging off him.

The next showed a scene from the front hall. From that spot, someone could see three people eating at the table, and another figure standing over an overflowing sink, stomach sunken in. There was also the stairway, lined with photos of a happy, three person family. And of course, the cupboard, where Harry's chalk lines had grown erratic and thin.

Finally was Dudley's second bedroom, simply done with only a few items in the room, bars on the window, and locks on the door.

It definitely was not Harry's greatest work; in fact, some parts were barely recognizable under the furious scrawling of chalk, but Harry turned to his Mind Healer and nodded towards it.

"That's where I grew up. Analyze the shit out of it if you want, but it is certainly not a home. Hogwarts is barely a home, now. I know you were brought here because they all think I'm losing my fucking mind, but they're about fifteen years too late. They never should have left me there in the first place."

Asta's eyes reflected that she knew. She had probably known as soon as she talked to him. Maybe even since she talked to Snape. They were empathetic, but not pitying. Instead they seemed to challenge him, making Harry stay still despite his urge to run after his dramatic speech.

"So what do you want to do about it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Well, I'm definitely not saying this will be easy, but you can let this be you, or you can control how it impacts you to some degree. It will take work and you're going to have to trust me. You're going to have to change some parts of your life and you're going to have to put more faith in yourself than you have ever before, even when you were fighting Dark wizards," Asta's voice was firm, powerful, and believable.

Harry was still nervous. He couldn't wrap his mind around this.

"It's okay to fear this process, Harry. But how about, before we meet again in three days, you start eating lunch. You deserve lunch. Eat lunch to piss off the Dursley's. Eat lunch because you need to. Just eat lunch as well as your fruit and your dinners with your Professor. That's your first homework assignment."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"I expect to hear all about it in three days, Harry. I believe you can do it. I know you can, because you deserve it."

And with that, she stood gracefully, flung her notebook in her briefcase that she slung over her shoulder, and tossed floo powder in the fire with a smile and nod at Harry.

He feebly waved back before she was gone.

"What the fuck?"

Sssssssssss

Wednesday. 12:14.

Harry stared at the sandwich he had in front of him. He had strolled into the Great Hall and grabbed it from the end of the Ravenclaw table before making a quick departure. Draco had raised an eyebrow at him but Harry had simply shook his head.

For a while now he has existed solely on what Snape spelled into his bag each day; often snack foods or light sandwiches since the man probably thought he was still sneaking food from the Kitchens. His body had been struggling with the soups and rolls and gentle foods that had been provided for the past two nights.

Now he was going to eat a corned beef sandwich, stuffed to the brim with meat and on a thick, toasted bread.

 _Fuck this. Fuck Asta. Fuck Snape. I don't need this sandwich._

Words from his session yesterday came flooding back. It didn't make sense that he deserved to eat lunch; he knew he didn't deserve anything, but the idea of doing something that gives him power over the Dursley's, even fake power that they will never know about, made him take a bite.

It was slow going, but he finished half the hearty sandwich and immediately lit a cigarette after. He gazed out from his perch on the balcony, looking at the craggy mountains, rolling hills, and deep clouds.

Harry was embarrassed to say he felt a little bit proud.

Ssssssssssss

3:43. Severus felt antsy, despite his stern and calm demeanor as he carried out his teaching duties during the day. The students rarely noticed anything off about him, both due to his Occlumency practice and their own self-involvement.

Remus, however, had noticed the tapping fingers and had raised a solitary eyebrow at lunch while they chatted aimlessly about new developments in Goblin-Wizard politics.

Severus felt useless after turning over to ask for help from the Mind Healer. Logical as he was, he felt like he could have done more, been more, for the child. Instead, he was pushed to the side and gave up the reins. It was far from comfortable.

Asta, however, had sensed his discomfort and mailed him books that arrived today. Books with titles such as "Your Child and Their Eating Disorder," and "Adolescents Moving Through Trauma," and one even arrogantly titled, "Bonding With Your Teen Son."

These were books for fathers. Severus knew he was not, and despite the fact that these books held helpful information for the complicated place he and Harry were in and gave him a deeper understanding of how to help, it still remained fact that he was just a teacher, helping.

He would never be more than that. And anyway, when did he get so attached? When did these protective feelings evolve into deep care for the child? Harry would never accept him like that. The boy had memories of his great, heroic, charming, popular father. A true father that was nothing like Severus. Jealousy rose in his chest, bubbling angrily at the image of the man.

 _Yet James Potter is not here,_ his brain reminded him. He shook it off, continuing to teach ignorant third years the affects human cells on dry ingredients.

His chest continued to ache. His fingers continued to tap.

Ssssssssssss

5:09. "Mate, give me a cigarette," Draco called out from his desk where he was hunched over, working on a map of the sky so large it sprawled over the edges of the desk.

"You're doing homework," Harry teased, but strolled over from his bed nonetheless and offered Draco a cig from his crumpled pack.

The teasing tone felt like a lie when Harry felt this confused and wrong and defeated. He had eaten the sandwich, but afterwards had opened his skin in delicate cuts on his thigh in the bathroom. It had given him so much relief, but guilt had sunk in not much later, and he couldn't help but feel like he would never win.

So now he was lounging on his bed, halfheartedly reading his Transfiguration homework so when McGonagall calls on him tomorrow, he won't completely embarrass himself as he had been doing recently. He felt scattered though, as if no part of him could settle.

For a while he pushed aside his book and watched Draco delicately map out some galaxy on the map, making numerous notes in his small, tight handwriting. Soon though, he checked the time and stuffed his belongings in his bag, said goodbye to the distracted Draco, and headed down the stairs to Snape's rooms.

Through the tapestry he went and into the warm sitting room, a fire already going and a cup of tea set out in front of the sofa.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," came the deep baritone of the Potions professor from the entrance of the kitchen.

"Evening, Professor," Harry said, plopping down and propping his feet up.

"Feet off." Harry rolled his eyes but did as asked, and a moment later Snape was in his chair and there was stew and a roll in front of him.

Harry took a few tentative bites, his mind drifting to the new cuts on his thigh, but he glanced at the serious man and took another bite.

"Have you done your homework?" Snape asked, eye flicking to Harry's face, waiting to discern the truth from the words.

"Yep. I did the paper for you, though it's shite, and I did the reading for McGonagall, but we'll see if I understood any of it," Harry shrugged. His grades had crumbled, but he was unconcerned. It wasn't like he had much of a career path in mind.

Snape's lips thinned, making Harry tilt his chin up in mock confidence, waiting for the argument to come. The man was very serious about schoolwork and education.

"Would you like some help, perhaps? I can not give you answers, of course, but I can explain things to you."

The stupid bubble that was becoming more and more frequent started back up in Harry's chest.

"Er, yeah, that would be nice. Some of the principles for reversing poisons went way over my head," he admitted, taking another bite.

"Keep eating, but explain where you think you got lost," Snape said, his tone becoming more authoritarian, but not nearly as sharp as it was in class.

The bubble grew, and Harry began asking questions.


	26. Chapter 26

Hello all! Sorry this is another short one; just two little glimpses into Harry's life. I'm finishing up my ED treatment and will hopefully be back to writing more after that all ends. I'm feeling better and hopefully my Harry will be able to mimic life as well. I was hoping for suggestions on the next chapter; mid-December for Harry. I have plans for Christmas and New Year, but was hoping for feedback for his day to day, getting back with his friends, and school/therapy times. Thank you guys so much for your continued support of this story. It really means a lot to me.

Sssssssssssss

Friday. 5:04. Harry sat across from Asta again, this time smoking a cigarette rather petulantly. Regardless, he felt a bit better and a bit more in his body.

"So, Harry, how did lunches go?" Asta asked, her warm, slight smile making it's way onto her face. Harry shuffled his feet a bit.

"Okay, I guess. I had half a sandwich on Wednesday, a cup of soup on Thursday, but only some carrots today." Harry decided to omit that he had smoked a joint with the carrots, and just ignore that he had cut on both Wednesday and Thursday right after eating.

"That's amazing progress, Harry," Asta beamed, her voice lighter. Harry blushed and ducked his head, knowing it wasn't, knowing he was still just a huge fuck up.

"Now today, I want us to begin practicing how to find a safe space in your mind. Some of the work we are going to do is going to be hard, and you need to be able to feel safe in yourself first before we can begin. There will be many other skills I can teach you, but where is somewhere you can picture being that makes you feel safe?"

Harry tightened. He has rarely felt safe in his own mind or body. Instead, they felt like his own personal battlegrounds that waged war day in and day out. How the fuck was he just supposed to make up a pretend safe space in himself when he was the one causing all the problems anyway?

So he just shrugged in response.

Asta looked up him, her brown eyes warming even more and making Harry feel a bit guilty for not trying. _Shit. Not anywhere in Privet Drive. Hogwarts then. Umm, not Gryffindor anymore. Not a classroom. Fuck._ The image of Snape's living room swam in his head, warm and calm and always open to him to lay down and take a break from the world.

He looked up again and nodded.

"Good, for your homework, whenever you're feeling anxious or stressed out, I want you to picture being in your safe space, really there. Can you do that?"

"Er, I think so," Harry shrugged, looking down at his clasped hands, his cheeks beginning to flush.

"That's wonderful, Harry. Now, I want to hear more about your day to day, especially your friends and your weekends."

Harry groaned internally, knowing the rest of the hour was going to have to be him speaking.

SSsssssssssssssssssssssss

First Sunday of December. 7:18. "Oi, Draco, what'd you get for number twelve for the Transfiguration problems? It's the one about time manipulation and transformation limitations," Harry asked, his head bent over parchment in Snape's quarters.

"No cheating," Snape drawled from his desk, not even bothering to look up.

"Awh come on, D…Professor," Harry stuttered, panicked and turned bright red. _No no no. You know it's wrong. You know you're not wanted like that. Merlin, now he's bound to think you're a total nutcase._

"You may ask for help, not for the answer," Snape said, apparently unfazed by the strange slip that had occurred between Harry's brain and mouth.

"Yeah, Potter, I can't be giving up my ranking as best in class," Draco laughed. Harry glared at him. Draco merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, seemingly confused but willing to play it cool for Harry's sake.

"Whatever, Malfoy, you're second in Transfiguration," Harry mumbled.

"Still better than your, what? Eighth? Ninth?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm pants at school, we all know," Harry rolled his eyes.

"You possess the ability to be in the top ranks if you would apply yourself a little more, Mister Potter," Snape said, a slight protective edge coming into his voice.

"Been a bit busy, sir, defeating Voldy and all," Harry retorted, his own tone a little bitter and angry, those emotions, plus embarrassment from the moment before, rising in his chest.

Draco's eyes widened slightly and he lowered his head back to his Astronomy work.

"Ah, but now you are free to study as much as you'd like. And I would be careful with your sass, Child."

Draco's head shot back up, eyes wide again, this time in amazement. Usually Snape would slaughter someone, especially Harry, for giving an excuse for poor academic performance, but Harry knew that Snape wouldn't lash out. He knew he could test his boundaries here, just a little. He also knew Snape would understand, at least to a point, that he didn't mean what he said in a celebratory way.

"Yes, sir," Harry merely replied, a slight smile at his lips, getting back to his Transfiguration problems. "But, uh, Malfoy, I need some help."

Draco scooted closer to Harry, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Alright, Potter, time has to be…"

As much as Harry tried listening, he kept zoning out, focusing instead on the proximity of Draco's body to his own. Their legs were touching and their torsos were centimeters apart.

Harry's feelings had been getting stronger, and therefor worse. _Don't think about him like that. He's your best mate. He wouldn't want you. Or if he did he would find out just how fucked up you are and then drop you. And that would be the worst possible scenario._

"Er, yeah, time versus the nature of transformation equals a variant of the unknown at times of high levels of transformative power," Harry muttered, scribbling it all down.

"Yes, yes, but also you have to take into account the energy of your surroundings, Potter. High energy situations take less time but are more unpredictable while low energy are more stable and take longer. Does that make sense?"

Harry nodded, his quill moving furiously as he tried not to think of how good Draco smells and how he spent his morning in the other boy's arms after a new nightmare.

They spent the rest of the evening in peace, that is until Draco had finished charting what he believed to be an important collection of stars, useful for the collection of Goosegrasss and young Bursting Mushrooms.

"So, Uncle Sev, what are your plans for the holidays?"

 _Shit, Christmas is only a month away at this point. What am I going to get Draco? What am I going to get Snape?_

"I shall stay here through Christmas, acting as Head of House for my Slytherins that decide to remain here. However, the Headmaster has given me a few days off to celebrate the rise of a new year with my partner off Hogwarts' grounds."

Harry felt a sudden jolt of jealousy rise in him. Not for Snape's partner; well, kinda. He wanted to be included. And he was ashamed of this. Here he was, sitting with two of the most important people in the world to him, no matter how odd that may be, and he was unable to express any of it.

He couldn't tell Draco he was falling in love with him and wanted more than anything to kiss him and let his head rest against his shoulder whenever he wanted.

He couldn't tell Snape he wanted something more official, more permanent; where he wouldn't be scared of being thrown away at any moment or replaced by someone better.

"What are you doing, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco leaned back, posturing haughtily, "Well I am staying in the castle this year, as evidenced by the piece of parchment in the Slytherin Common Room." At this point Snape rolled his eyes and leaned back as well. "Then my mother, with the permission of Dumbledore, will be staying the night on Christmas Eve and we will celebrate the day together, most likely beside you and Potter here. Afterwards, we shall depart to the French countryside for the New Year and spend it with a long lost cousin who married a Muggle."

"Very nice, Dragon, I'm glad to see your mother is making ties with old family members. And you, Harry?"

Harry looked up, startled. "I'm gonna stay here, like I do every year," he said, anger lacing his voice. "Don't have anywhere else to be, do I?"

Snape's eyebrows went up slightly, but that was the only sign that he was affected by what was said. "I was merely curious if you were throwing a party or had plans while you were in the castle, Child."

Harry stood, stuffing his homework in his bag. "Well I don't. I'll see you later, sir."

And with that, Harry left, dipped outside for a cigarette in the bone-chilling air, and returned to his room and wondered what Draco and Snape said about him after he left.


	27. Chapter 27

Hello! Finally, a real update. I hope you guys enjoy this. The next few will be about the holidays, which will be full of drama, of course. Let me know of any requests or suggestions! Thank you for reading.

Two weeks into December. Thursday. 4:08.

"You should not do anything out of guilt alone, Severus," Albus said, his deep voice solemn but eyes still twinkling.

"You know very well it is not guilt. And if you would stop treating us like pawns, you would not be questioning me like this." Severus was frustrated and confused and feeling completely out of his comfort zone. What he was doing didn't come with instructions, after all.

"Severus, you know I am merely ensuring this is really what you wish, I have no desire to treat anyone like pawns anymore or lead anyone into my bidding as you think. Now I simply want the best for my boys."

Severus averted his gaze from Albus' tearful eyes.

"I also want the best, and I believe this is the best course of action for everyone involved."

"Then yes, Severus, of course. You have my full support."

Severus left the Headmaster's office with a twinge of excitement.

SSSsssssssssss

6:09. "Child, you have read the entirety of the Warding with Runes book cover to cover. Just what is so fascinating?"

Harry looked up, shocked to see Snape peering at him. He had been on a search, his eyes skimming through hundreds of pages, seeking something that would help him. What he really needed was advice, but he would have to wait until Saturday to ask questions. _Shit. This proposal is due next week._

"Mister Potter?" The Potions Master's deep voice cut through Harry's thoughts.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just trying to find some things for your proposal," he said absentmindedly.

"Yes, but you need to eat as well," Snape drawled, his voice conveying his eye roll.

Harry blushed, but put down the book and started eating his grilled chicken and mashed potatoes. It was surprising what a few weeks of eating could do. Harry rarely threw up anymore, but still got nauseous often. But Snape had said that if he kept eating he could swim again, and he knows he's close to being able to.

Harry feels weak and pathetic compared to his classmates. He knows he's frail, he knows he sleeps more than normal, he knows he's got some mental shit going on. He just wants to be strong. He's sick of being this way.

Asta told him to use his anger, that it's good for him to be angry of the way things were, and to use his frustration to change things.

Mind Healers were weird, Harry had decided. She had been told about his cutting and while telling him reasons to stop, hadn't forced him to, had told him that she didn't expect it to end quickly, especially after Harry told her about years before of similar behavior. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that he purposely taunted his relatives though, just to feel the pain. That was too fucked up, even for him.

They had worked on "skills," such as deep breathing, distraction, and going to the safe place in Harry's head when he was really scared. At first Harry thought it was all going to be shite, but the more he practiced, the more useful it seemed.

The last time Draco, Ginny, and Harry had been cornered by Ron, Seamus, McClaggen, and the Hufflepuff beater, Higgins, they had gotten a little roughed up and Harry's chest was so tight it felt like he couldn't breathe.

Ginny had gotten them to back off with some sharp hexes, and Draco had swung a few punches after they had sent his wand clattering down the hall. Harry had sent his own spells at them, but they were weak, his voice too raspy, his breathing too heavy to properly perform them. Flitwick had broken up the fight, with everyone receiving a loss in points, but no detentions, despite protest from Draco.

Afterward he sat in the Bell Towers and smoked a few joints and pretended he was at Snape's, safe by the fire. He had skived off of DADA, not in the mood to sit by Ron and Seamus and listen to cheery Lupin go on about bloody Occlumency.

So he parted ways with his friends and calmed down a bit before Potions.

Potions, for the first time in his Hogwarts career, was safe. Snape valued complete silence, and anyone who broke that silence was condemned to the dungeons for detention, especially at this point in the semester, where the Potions were tricky and complicated and had a tendency to blow up.

Plus, despite not being his usual self in public, having Snape in there made things feel a little calmer, like Harry knew nothing bad would happen.

The man still made him take off his glamour in his quarters, but Harry wasn't looking quite as shitty as usual since there was less tightening of the jaw going on.

Harry had been informed that Asta reported primarily to Snape, not that he was given any intense details or anything, but it still made Harry a little embarrassed, so he didn't talk too much about Snape in his sessions.

Instead he just talked to him, at dinners in front of the fire. They talked about school and Draco and books and how much to eat and therapy and how to stop smoking and tattoos and Harry tried to make him talk about his boyfriend and he would not.

"Tomorrow I will be attending therapy with you, just so you are informed beforehand," Snape said casually, spearing an asparagus with his fork.

"What? Why? Have I done something wrong?" Harry's heart started beating faster. _What could I have done? Is it going to be like an intervention? Is it so Snape can say he doesn't want me?_

"It is merely because it will be a difficult session and Asta believes that you will feel more comfortable with me there. I still need to discuss a few things with her, but I thought it would be best to inform you beforehand. Will this be okay with you?"

 _At least he's asking, but I don't really see any other choice._ "Yeah, I guess. I just, I don't know, yeah."

"Ah, how wonderfully articulate, Child. I just ask you to trust what is going on, despite your apparent fears, I will take care of you."

Harry looked toward his knees and nodded, his throat and chest a little tight and his mind swimming in confusion. _What will happen to me tomorrow? Why is something happening tomorrow? I thought I was being better! I haven't disappeared in over a week; I haven't skipped meals as often. I'm bloody trying to be good for him. So what the fuck did I do?_

"I mean I'll be there tomorrow, I just want to know if I did something wrong," Harry said, a bit of anger lacing into his voice. He saw Snape shift from his chair and flinched before realizing the man had merely kneeled in front of him.

"You have done nothing wrong, Harry. I would tell you if you had broken any rules or done something dangerous. What will happen tomorrow will be for your protection and that is it. I will be there to keep you safe. I promise. Nothing that happens will be done with the intent to harm you. Can you believe me," Snape said in that gentle voice he gets when he is trying to get Harry to understand something important about life.

"I guess. I'll be there. I don't think you're gonna try and hurt me," Harry shrugged, mostly believing the words. _But people accidentally hurt each other all the time._

Snape stood again and moved back to his chair, seemingly pacified with the answer, or at least knowing it was the best he would get.

They returned to their plates and continued a quiet and seemingly content evening, with Snape grading papers and Harry halfheartedly doing homework.

That night, however, Harry returned to his room and took a burning hot shower and sliced his thigh open three times, just a little deeper than usual.

Sssssssssss

Friday. 3:52. Harry finished scrubbing the dirt out from beneath his fingernails after a particularly nasty encounter with some murderous shrubbery in Herbology. He glanced around, and finding the bathroom empty, removed his glamour and took a nice glance at himself.

Pale still since the Scotland winter doesn't condone spending any time outdoors, he looked gaunt in contrast with his dark hair and thick eyelashes. He was still very thin and looked disgusting with his cheeks hollowed in as they were. It was an improvement though. He looked less like a skeleton than even last week.

And all he had to do was suffer through the pain of eating. The pain almost felt good, just like starving did.

Harry shook his head, his hair flopping about, and put the glamour back on before heading down the corridor to bloody Mind Healing. He had spent the morning drinking quite a bit to get his mind off it, but it hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. So he had cut, and smoked a joint, and finally felt far enough from his brain that images of being punished were pushed away.

Now though, as he pushes the door open, the images return sharply, despite Snape's insistence that he had not done anything wrong.

Asta was sitting in her chair and grinned as he came in. He returned his smile shyly, as usual. Then he noticed Snape sitting in the far back, a stack of exams beside him and a jar of red ink. The man looked up and nodded before returning to slashing parchment.

"Hello Harry," started Asta, her golden eyes cheerful, "Today we are going to do something a little different, but first I wanted to ask the basics."

 _Fuck fuck fuck. Not in front of Snape._ "Okay," Harry said dully, slumping down in his chair.

"Is that alright with you even though we have a visitor?"

"Yup," Harry replied, eyes on the floor, lying through his teeth. Asta raised her eyebrows but continued.

"Just tell me if there are any you do not wish to answer," she reminded him, "And remember our breathing techniques. Now, how was eating the past three days?"

"Good. Ate three times a day every day, not five like you like but that's too bloody much," Harry raised his jaw defiantly. The woman wanted him to eat three meals and two snacks, way too much for a regular person.

"Three times is good, but remember why I want you to eat five times?"

Harry's jaw dropped and he nodded. _So my body can restore weight and like bloody trust me or something mad like that._

"Any cutting?" Harry saw movement from Snape's corner of the room and sunk down in his chair. Harry shrugged. He could feel Asta's eyes on him and he squirmed for a moment before they left him.

"No problem, how are things with Mister Malfoy?" Asta carried right on, her voice warm as always.

"Good, no fights or anything. I had another nightmare and woke up and ya know," Harry waved his hand as he mumbled, knowing Asta would fill in the blanks. _And Draco held me until I felt safe enough to go back to sleep._

"Have you had nightmares every night since our last session?"

"Fuckin' right," Harry rolled his eyes. "Or at least stress dreams."

"Okay, well we will work on that a bit later if we have time," Asta began, "Now, for the reason Professor Snape is here, I thought it best you have someone you know to be capable as well as trustworthy to be the one to enter your mind."

"What the fuck?" Harry yelled, twisting to look at Snape. "Enter my bloody mind? Why?"

Snape looked up, his eyes dark and conflicted and full of something. He began to speak, but Asta interrupted.

"We need memories of your relatives, Harry," she said softly, the gentleness making Harry angrier, "In order to protect you this upcoming summer. No one will know except me and your professor. I will be completing all the paperwork. It is for your safety, but there must be evidence that I can list."

Harry stood up and kicked his chair, panting hard. All the oxygen seemed to be leaving his system at a rapid rate.

"I don't want anyone to see," he growled out. "No one is supposed to see."

"Harry," Snape spoke finally, his voice calm and warm but stern, "We have to see to get you away from there. It isn't because we don't believe you, but because there must me evidence on file. I want you to be safe from them, and this is the way to do it. You only have to show me one memory, I will only see what you show me," he had stepped closer as he talked until he was in front of Harry, who was standing still, fists clenched and jaw tight and chest rising and falling rapidly.

 _Not go back to the Dursleys'._ Harry let the thought rush over him. _I could just stay with Draco or Hermione or even fucking Luna. I wouldn't have to go back._

"Fine," he said, sticking his chin out. Snape let out a deep breath, letting his hair fall into his face.

"Would you care to sit? Please pull forth a memory that you believe will show adequately that you should not live with them furthermore."

Harry sat as a million thoughts came to mind. There were too many memories to choose one. Should he choose a recent one, or one from years ago? What was right?

"Are you ready?" Snape held his wand up, and Harry nodded. " _Legilimens,"_ Snape whispered.

Sssssssssss

Severus was pulled into a tide of memories, completely pushed onto him at a rapid pace as if Harry could not control the stream.

There was Potter, small, maybe seven, being whacked on the head with a frying pan that was still hot.

Again he was being chased by a much larger boy, winding through houses and over fences until he tripped and then was punched over and over by the older boy.

The Uncle, backhanding him and throwing him into a cupboard.

Serving everyone dinner while his stomach was growling.

Finally, looking as if he was in his Hogwarts years, and it got worse. He was told it was to "stamp the magic out of him."

Burned on the stovetop after overcooking the bacon.

Pushed down the stairs and stepped on by the obese uncle.

The belt, over and over and over.

Sitting somewhere small and dark and full of loneliness with no relief.

Finally Severus found his bearing and had to remove himself, despite the pressure from Harry's brain to keep watching.

He found himself in front of a frantic boy with tears flowing down his cheeks.

"I…I don't know what happened," Harry whispered. "I couldn't stop."

"It's okay, Child, it's okay," Severus said, moving to crouch in front of the broken boy. "It wasn't your fault, it was just overwhelming, do not worry."

The boy looked up with broken eyes and Severus felt his a jab of pain through his chest. _What have I done?_

"Is it enough? I don't want to go back," Harry said softly, his arms wrapped in on himself.

"It's enough, Child, it's enough. You won't go back, I promise," Severus said, extending a hand towards Harry. Harry took it hesitantly, then kneeled too and laid his head on Severus' shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Severus met Asta's gaze and tilted his head toward the fireplace. They could finish the business side of things once Harry was okay, once he knew he was safe again.

Asta understood and flooed away, casting just a glance back at the two figures offering care for each other, whether they knew it or not.

Ssssssss

Saturday. 5:30. "Child, wake up," a deep voice cut through Harry's dreams; dreams of sharks and inferi and deep, cold waters made of bleach.

"Huh, wha?"

"Would you prefer to doze away or would you care to swim?" The image of a black clad figure swam in front of Harry, and he realized he was on Snape's sofa after a quiet, calm evening.

"Ya don' swim o' Sa'urdays," Harry mumbled into his pillow.

"Ah, but what an excellent day to begin your swimming?"

 _Your swimming? My swimming!_

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," Harry swung his legs off the sofa and reached around for his glasses. Putting them on, he saw his swimming clothes in front of him and excitedly grabbed them and rushed towards the bathroom to change.

Forty-five minutes later, Harry was lying in the middle of the Lake, on the little dock that Snape had spelled up. He was basking in the heat of the warming charms that coated his clothing, while a chill wind grazed him gently. He could hear Snape dutifully doing laps in the background but he just stared up at the dark sky. The moon, though partially covered by a thin mist, shone bright, even as the beginnings of daylight began to make their appearance at the edges of the Earth.

So Harry basked. It felt like a day that anything could happen. Maybe today he wouldn't cut himself. Maybe today he would hold Draco's hand. Or even kiss the beautiful boy he couldn't keep his mind off. The day felt like a day for possibilities.

Harry splashed back into the water and began his strokes to shore.


End file.
